Better by far you should forget and smile that you should

In the tender voice of Christina Rossetti, poet of sorrow and serenity, there comes a line that breathes both resignation and mercy: “Better by far you should forget and smile than that you should remember and be sad.” These words, born from her poem “Remember,” are not cold counsel to indifference, but the highest form of love — a love that releases rather than clings, that blesses rather than binds. In them lies a truth as old as humanity itself: that the noblest heart does not seek to be remembered at the cost of another’s peace, but would rather fade into forgetfulness than be the cause of lingering grief.

To understand the depth of these words, one must remember the world in which Rossetti wrote — an age when loss shadowed every household, when death and parting were close companions. She wrote not from bitterness, but from compassion. Her poem speaks as though from beyond the veil, a soul whispering to its beloved: “Do not weep for me; live on, and live well.” This is not the selfish cry of one who fears being forgotten, but the gentle wisdom of one who knows that memory, though sacred, can become a chain if clung to too tightly. Rossetti’s quote is a hymn to release, to the healing that only forgiveness — even forgiveness of fate — can bring.

To forget and smile is not to erase love; it is to transform it. It is to accept that joy and sorrow, though born together, must part ways in their season. The ancients knew this truth well. They spoke of Lethe, the river of forgetfulness in the underworld, whose waters brought peace to weary souls. Yet this forgetfulness was not cruelty — it was mercy. For those who drank from Lethe were freed from the ache of memory, not the essence of love. So too does Rossetti ask her beloved to drink of such peace: to carry love as warmth, not as wound.

History offers us many who have embodied this spirit. Think of Queen Victoria, who, after the death of Prince Albert, clothed herself in mourning for decades, her life shrouded in sorrow. Her devotion was deep, but her grief was endless; the memory that should have been comfort became her prison. Contrast this with Helen Keller, who, though blind and deaf, chose not to dwell on her losses but to rejoice in the light she could still feel. She remembered the pain, but she smiled through it, and thus her life became a beacon of endurance. Both women loved deeply — but only one learned the alchemy of transforming remembrance into joy.

Rossetti’s teaching reminds us that love’s truest form is selfless. When she says, “Better you should forget and smile,” she relinquishes the ego’s desire for permanence. She speaks as one who understands that love fulfilled does not demand possession; it liberates both giver and receiver. True remembrance lies not in endless mourning, but in living well — in letting the departed live on through acts of kindness, laughter, and courage. To remember and remain sad is to dwell among tombs; to forget enough to smile is to let life bloom again.

The strength of cheerfulness, as Carlyle once wrote, is a form of endurance. Rossetti echoes this, but with a tenderness hewn from compassion rather than stoicism. To smile after loss is not weakness — it is the ultimate triumph of the spirit over despair. The heart that learns to smile after pain becomes a vessel of healing for the world, a living testament that love can survive even in silence. Such a heart does not forget entirely, but remembers softly, as one remembers the scent of a flower long faded, still sweet in the mind.

Thus, the lesson for us is clear: do not cling to sorrow as proof of love. Let your remembrance breathe. Allow joy to return, for in your laughter, those you have lost live on more truly than in your tears. Practice release — speak the names of those gone, then go forth and do the good they would have wished. Build, sing, love again. For in doing so, you honor not their death, but their life.

And so, when your own time comes to bid farewell — whether to a person, a season, or a dream — may you have the grace of Christina Rossetti, to say: “Better by far you should forget and smile.” For the greatest gift we can leave behind is not sorrow in the hearts of those we love, but the courage for them to keep walking toward the dawn, smiling still, carrying in their joy the quiet echo of our love.