Christina Rossetti
The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood emerged in Victorian England as a reaction against academic convention, pressing instead for sincerity, symbolic depth, and close engagement with the natural and spiritual worlds. Christina Georgina Rossetti was among the writers affiliated with that movement, contributing to it as a poet and writer working in the English language.
Born in London on 5 December 1830, Rossetti was a citizen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. She worked across several related forms — poet, writer, hymnwriter, and librettist — and her poetry moved through romantic, devotional, and children's subjects. That range placed her within the Pre-Raphaelite circle while also extending beyond what visual artists in the Brotherhood typically addressed, since her work took sacred and lyric verse as its primary territory.
Her devotional poems, her romantic poems, and her poems written for children each occupied a distinct register, yet all fell within the same sustained practice of writing that defined her career. As a hymnwriter and librettist she worked in forms beyond standalone verse, though the same commitment to the English lyric ran through those efforts as well. The variety of her output — across romantic feeling, religious subject matter, and writing addressed to younger readers — reflected a writer who moved with deliberate purpose among different modes.
Rossetti died in London on 29 December 1894, having been born and having died in the same city. Her affiliation with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood situated her within one of the Victorian period's most self-conscious literary and artistic movements, and her work as a poet, hymnwriter, and librettist placed her among those writers who engaged seriously with both secular and devotional forms throughout the second half of the nineteenth century.
Quotes by Christina Rossetti
Christina Rossetti's insights on:

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? / Yes, to the very end. / Will the day's journey take the whole long day? / From morn to night, my friend.

Remember me when I am gone away, / Gone far away into the silent land. / Better by far you should forget and smile / Than you should remember and be sad.

Christmas hath a beauty / Lovelier than the world can show: / For Christmas bringeth Jesus, / Brought for us so low.

Beautiful, delightful, noble, memorable, as is the world you and yours frequent, I yet am well content in my shady crevice.

Open wide the window of our spirits and fill us full of light; open wide the door of our hearts, that we may receive and entertain Thee with all our powers of adoration and love.

June the month of months / Flowers and fruitage brings too, / When green trees spread shadiest boughs, / When each wild bird sings too.

For there is no friend like a sister / In calm or stormy weather; / To cheer one on the tedious way, / To fetch one if one goes astray, / To lift one if one totters down, / To strengthen whilst one stands.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth, Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth, Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white, Love is like a lovely rose, the world’s delight. Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth, But the rose with all its thorns excels them both.
