trast it forms with the sentimentality and diffuseness that vitiates much Victorian poetry. Her stylistic concision owes something, no doubt, to the Pre-Raphaelite aesthetics of her brother, just as her restraint reflects her affinities with Tractarianism and the doctrine of Reserve. Concision here means not compression, however, so much as simplicity and directness of utterance, and her weakest poetry has justly been charged with slightness rather than formal shortcomings. On the contrary, Rossetti was notably scrupulous and craftswomanly, submitting poems to Dante Gabriel and others for criticism and perfectly aware when she had achieved the well-made aesthetic object that she insisted on both in her work and in others'.
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The fusion of Tractarian and Pre-Raphaelite poetics, Harrison demonstrates, is observable in poems like "'Consider the Lilies of the Field,'" and "'Thou knewest . . . thou oughtest therefore.'" Both poems are marked by a Pre-Raphaelite closeness and intensity of gaze in order to effect an ''Analogical reading" of nature à la Keble; but in Rossetti this process culminates in a small and precisely defined religious illumination or an insight into right conduct as an element of Creation. Much of her religious poetry deals with suffering and release; indeed, a world-weary melancholy pervades the poetry, which appears to be written from the point of view of one who has already renounced the world, as in "The Thread of Life," a melancholy that in "'For Thine Own Sake, O My God'" deepens into self-loathing: "Wearied of sinning, wearied of repentance, / . . . Wearied of self, I turn, my God, to Thee; / . . . Wearied I loathe myself, I loathe my sinning, / My stains, my festering sores, my misery. . . ." Fairchild catches in few words the circular negativity of Rossetti's rigorism: "She loved the world, condemned that love as sinful, renounced the world, was made unhappy by that renunciation, condemned that unhappiness as sinful." There is, however, a single ray of light in this bleak outlook: in "'When my heart is vexed I will complain'" she begins with the beauty of the world ("The fields are white to harvest, look and see"), rejects this beauty ("I have no heart for harvest time, / Grow sick with hope deferred from chime to chime"), yet takes heart from Christ, who "can set [her] in the eternal ecstasy /Of his great jubilee."
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But the negation of life in this world, or its reduction to a thoroughfare full of woe, seems to be for Rossetti a necessary step towards affirmation of life in the next. This hereafter she images forth in recognizably Pre-Raphaelite terms as an aesthetic paradise, as in "'The Holy
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