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Poet: Christina Rossetti
Poem: Remember
Volume: Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1862
Comment 8 of 8, added on June 12th, 2006 at 6:44 PM.
My brother died a violent death. Suicide. He was diagnosed with schitophrenic. He couldnt deal with life. His councelors advised him to keep a diary of his thoughts. SOme good some bad. Upon his death the diary was in my care. Shorty after his death I was awoken one night to a voice, a wisper in my ear Remember. I couldnt sleep the rest of the night. Remember what I would ask myself. I soon forgot about it until two days later my son then in grade five came home with a poem.He said it reminded him of his uncle. The deceased.I read the poem and didnt read the title till later. When I seen Remember my legs went weak. I did not know what vestige meant so I looked it up in the dictionary, it meant diary. A vestige of the dreams I once had. To me it was a message from beyond that he wanted it destroyed. That day tearfully I went to a pit and burned it. Never had anything like that happen to me again. A wonderful Poem I will carry in my heart always. In fact i would like it to be read at my funeral.
Kathy Melanson from Canada
Comment 7 of 8, added on March 18th, 2006 at 10:05 PM.
I've always treated this poem as love lost, but not necessarily through death. I sometimes walk alone and think of past loves I had, and this poem suddenly pops into mind. I've had it memorised, and I love it much.
Donn from Singapore
Comment 6 of 8, added on November 23rd, 2005 at 7:19 AM.
a lovely, yet Immensely sad poem. though not when she was dying, but she had to leave her husband-to-be beacuse of strong religious differences. but she still loved him. i belive this is almost worse than her dying, being in love yet knowing that they will find someone else, and you must too; heartbreaking. shattering which she manages to get across here.
jessica from United Kingdom
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My brother died a violent death. Suicide. He was diagnosed with schitophrenic. He couldnt deal with life. His councelors advised him to keep a diary of his thoughts. SOme good some bad. Upon his death the diary was in my care. Shorty after his death I was awoken one night to a voice, a wisper in my ear Remember. I couldnt sleep the rest of the night. Remember what I would ask myself. I soon forgot about it until two days later my son then in grade five came home with a poem.He said it reminded him of his uncle. The deceased.I read the poem and didnt read the title till later. When I seen Remember my legs went weak. I did not know what vestige meant so I looked it up in the dictionary, it meant diary. A vestige of the dreams I once had. To me it was a message from beyond that he wanted it destroyed. That day tearfully I went to a pit and burned it. Never had anything like that happen to me again. A wonderful Poem I will carry in my heart always. In fact i would like it to be read at my funeral.
Kathy Melanson from Canada