Goblin Market, and other poems, by Christina Rossetti

    ‘A cup for hope!’ she said,

In springtime ere the bloom was old:

The crimson wine was poor and cold

    By her mouth’s richer red.

    ‘A cup for love!’ how low,

How soft the words; and all the while

Her blush was rippling with a smile

    Like summer after snow.

    ‘A cup for memory!’

Cold cup that one must drain alone:

While autumn winds are up and moan

    Across the barren sea.

    Hope, memory, love:

Hope for fair morn, and love for day,

And memory for the evening grey

    And solitary dove.