In the garden where silence breathes,
Christina’s words softly weave,
Through the leaves of time and dreams,
A tapestry of light and seams.

Beneath the moon’s gentle glow,
Her verses flow, a river slow,
Embracing shadows, chasing dawn,
In her world, we’re never forlorn.

With each line, a heart’s lament,
Unseen angels, heaven-sent,
Her poetry, a sacred hymn,
In every stanza, spirits brim.

Oh, Rossetti, with quill in hand,
You painted worlds so vast, so grand,
Your legacy, a timeless song,
In your words, we all belong.