Tag: christina-rossetti, goblin-market, poems

Evening by eveningAmong the Brookside rushes,Laura bow’d her head to hear,Lizzie veil’d her blushes:Crouching close togetherIn the cooling weather,With clasping arms and cautioning lips,With tingling cheeks and fingertips.”lie close,” Laura said,Pricking up her golden head:”We must not look at Goblin men,We must not buy their fruits:who knows upon the soil they fedTheir hungry thirsty roots?””Come buy,” call the GoblinsHobbling down the glen