At Home   Christina Rossetti.

When I was dead, my spirit turned
To seek the much-frequented house:
I passed the door, and saw my friends
Feasting beneath green orange boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
For each was loved of each.
 
I listened to their honest chat:
Said one: 'To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands
And coasting miles and miles of sea.'
Said one: 'Before the turn of tide
We will achieve the eyrie-seat.'
Said one: 'To-morrow shall be like
To-day, but much more sweet.'
 
'To-morrow,' said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
'To-morrow,' cried they one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
'To-morrow and to-day,' they cried;
I was of yesterday.
 
I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the tablecloth;
I all-forgotten shivered, sad
To stay and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.

Some might regard it as a little maudlin, but imagining yourself in the past tense might have some advantages in the present. Not unlike Scrooge on his supernatural contemplation of his possible future, though without the moralising, Rosetti considers how her friends and family, those close to her, might get on when she gone.

In contrasting the joy they feel at what pleasures they will encounter 'tomorrow', for they have agency, with her entrapment in 'yesterday', she highlights the contradictions of love and loss. Life must go on surely, and suits of woe cannot always be worn, even where the loss is quite recent.

Another take on this poem I have read is that Rosetti, who was a deeply devotional Christian, considers the life that she is required to 'sacrifice' in order to please God. She must give up some pleasures in order to love God, which is a different kind of joy.

I'm not sure about this interpretation. If you read Rosetti's religious verse, she seems quite certain in her faith, though acutely aware of her shortcomings. As I said before, belief is much harder than not believing. It is so much easier to just let things slide.