Saints And Angels Christina Rossetti

It's oh in Paradise that I fain would be,
        Away from earth and weariness and all beside;
Earth is too full of loss with its dividing sea,
        But Paradise upbuilds the bower for the bride.

Where flowers are yet in bud while the boughs are green,
        I would get quit of earth and get robed for heaven;
Putting on my raiment white within the screen,
        Putting on my crown of gold whose gems are seven

Fair is the fourfold river that maketh no moan,
        Fair are the trees fruit-bearing of the wood,
Fair are the gold and bdellium and the onyx stone,
        And I know the gold of that land is good.

O my love, my dove, lift up your eyes
        Toward the eastern gate like an opening rose;
You and I who parted will meet in Paradise,
        Pass within and sing when the gates unclose.

This life is but the passage of a day,
        This life is but a pang and all is over;
But in the life to come which fades not away
        Every love shall abide and every lover.

He who wore out pleasure and mastered all lore,
        Solomon, wrote "Vanity of vanities:"
Down to death, of all that went before
        In his mighty long life, the record is this.