Yesterday's 'Poem for the Day' was 'Song' by Christina Rossetti. It's a thoroughly miserable piece that begins 'When I am dead, my dearest' and goes on to instruct her lover not to make any effort to remember her because she won't bother to remember him when she's gone.

Reading the footnotes I was amazed to discover that Rossetti wrote this poem when she was just 18 and nowhere near death (she reached the age of 64) and gave it to her fiance as an engagement present. I kid you not.

The only surprise is that she, rather than he, later broke off the engagement!