Christina Rossetti

Who Shall Deliver Me?

God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,

Inalienable weight

Legal term meaning 'cannot be transferred to another person.' She's stuck with herself the way you're stuck with inalienable rights—no escape clause.

Inalienable weight of care.
All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.
I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?
If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run! Death runs apace.

Death runs apace

Apace = quickly. Death is the only thing moving fast enough to catch her. Notice she sees death as solution, not threat.

If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!
God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves for ease and rest and joys:

Arch-traitor to myself

Arch- prefix means chief or principal. She's her own Benedict Arnold—the enemy isn't external temptation but internal sabotage.

Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,

Hollowest friend

Hollow = empty, insincere. The self pretends to be on your side while undermining you. Friendship as fraud.

My clog whatever road I go.
Yet One there is can curb myself,

Roll the strangling load

Echo of Luke 24:2—the stone rolled away from Christ's tomb. She needs resurrection, not self-improvement.

Can roll the strangling load from me
Break off the yoke and set me free.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Paradox of Self-Imprisonment

Rossetti builds the poem on a logical trap: you can lock out the world, but you can't lock out yourself. The first two stanzas establish this with brutal clarity. "I lock my door and bar them out" works fine for "The turmoil, tedium, gad-about"—external distractions. But the third stanza springs the trap: "who shall wall / Self from myself"? You are both the prisoner and the guard.

The poem's structure mirrors this entrapment. Every stanza begins with either "God strengthen me" or "I lock my door" or variations on "If I could"—prayers, actions, wishes, all failing. The rhyme scheme (AAB CCB) creates couplets that close like locks, then a third line that doesn't quite fit. Even the form won't let her out.

Notice the escalating self-hatred: "heaviest weight" becomes "most loathed of all" becomes "arch-traitor" becomes "deadliest foe." This isn't depression—it's theological precision. In Christian doctrine, the self isn't just flawed; it's the source of sin. Rossetti's not being dramatic. She's being accurate about the problem of original sin.

Who "One" Is (and Why It Matters)

The final stanza's "Yet One there is" is Christ, but notice what Rossetti doesn't say. She doesn't say "I turn to Christ" or "I pray for salvation." She says "One there is can curb myself"—present tense, statement of fact, not personal testimony. The poem ends on theological certainty, not emotional resolution.

"Break off the yoke" echoes Jeremiah 30:8 and Matthew 11:28-30, where Christ promises to replace heavy yokes with light ones. But Rossetti's verb choices are violent: "curb," "roll," "break off." This isn't gentle grace. This is forcible extraction. The self won't go quietly.

The title "Who Shall Deliver Me?" comes from Romans 7:24—Paul's cry "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" Paul answers his own question: Christ. Rossetti does the same, but notice she never says "me" in the last stanza. It's "myself" three times. Even at the moment of rescue, the self is the object, not the subject. She can't save herself. She can only be saved from herself.