LXXII The Choice, II
Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?
Is not the day which God's word promiseth
To come man knows not when? In yonder sky
Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I
Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath
Even at this moment haply quickeneth
The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh
Though screen'd and hid, shall walk the daylight here.
And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?
Canst thou, who hast but plagues, presume to be
Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?
Will his strength slay thy worm in Hell? Go to:
Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet XXXVIII: The Morrow's Message
“Thou Ghost,” I said, “and is thy name To-day?—
Yesterday's son, with such an abject brow!—
And can To-morrow be more pale than thou?”
While yet I spoke, the silence answered: “Yea,
Henceforth our issue is all grieved and grey,
And each beforehand makes such poor avow
As of old leaves beneath the budding bough
Or night-drift that the sundawn shreds away.”
Then cried I: “Mother of many malisons,
O Earth, receive me to thy dusty bed!”
But therewithal the tremulous silence said:
“Lo! Love yet bids thy lady greet thee once:—
Yea, twice,—whereby thy life is still the sun's;
And thrice,—whereby the shadow of death is dead.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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To Philip Bourke Marston, Inciting Me To Poetic Work
SWEET Poet, thou of whom these years that roll
Must one day yet the burdened birthright learn,
And by the darkness of thine eyes discern
How piercing was the sight within thy soul;—
Gifted apart, thou goest to the great goal,
A cloud-bound radiant spirit, strong to earn,
Light-reft, that prize for which fond myriads yearn
Vainly light-blest,—the Seër's aureole.
And doth thine ear, divinely dowered to catch
All spheral sounds in thy song blent so well,
Still hearken for my voice's slumbering spell
With wistful love? Ah! let the Muse now snatch
My wreath for thy young brows, and bend to watch
Thy veiled transfiguring sense's miracle.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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For A Virgin And Child By Hans Memmelinck
(In the Academy of Bruges)
MYSTERY: God, man's life, born into man
Of woman. There abideth on her brow
The ended pang of knowledge, the which now
Is calm assured. Since first her task began
She hath known all. What more of anguish than
Endurance oft hath lived through, the whole space
Through night till day, passed weak upon her face
While the heard lapse of darkness slowly ran?
All hath been told her touching her dear Son,
And all shall be accomplished. Where He sits
Even now, a babe, He holds the symbol fruit
Perfect and chosen. Until God permits,
His soul's elect still have the absolute
Harsh nether darkness, and make painful moan.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet XLIII: Love and Hope
Bless love and hope. Full many a withered year
Whirled past us, eddying to its chill doomsday;
And clasped together where the blown leaves lay
We long have knelt and wept full many a tear.
Yet lo! one hour at last, the Spring's compeer,
Flutes softly to us from some green byeway:
Those years, those tears are dead, but only they:—
Bless love and hope, true soul; for we are here.
Cling heart to heart; nor of this hour demand
Whether in very truth, when we are dead,
Our hearts shall wake to know Love's golden head
Sole sunshine of the imperishable land;
Or but discern, through night's unfeatured scope,
Scorn-fired at length the illusive eyes of Hope.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet LXXVIII: Body's Beauty
Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told
(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)
That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive,
And her enchanted hair was the first gold.
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The House of the Life (19): Silent Noon
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,--
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.
'Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-search'd growths the dragon-fiy
Hangs like a blue thread loosen'd from the sky:--
So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companion'd inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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At Issue
THAT voice I hear,—how heard I cannot tell,—
Although my home is this, seems from my home:
There… still it trails along and murmurs “Come”;
Like the slow death of sound within a bell,
Or like the humming whine in some pink shell
Wet with the brittle beadage of the foam
Which bird—eyed damsels stoop for when they roam
By the old sea. Were't not exceeding well
To shake my soul out of this tiresome life
For a call any—whence and any—whither?
That voice knows all the life I have or had,
And mocks me not,—it's whisper is too sad.
Even to attain calm sorrow lures me thither,
Since here this search for joy wearies like strife.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Sonnet XIX: Silent Noon
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,—
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.
'Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:—
So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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At The Sun-Rise In 1848
God said, Let there be light; and there was light.
Then heard we sounds as though the Earth did sing
And the Earth's angel cried upon the wing:
We saw priests fall together and turn white:
And covered in the dust from the sun's sight,
A king was spied, and yet another king.
We said: “The round world keeps its balancing;
On this globe, they and we are opposite,—
If it is day with us, with them 'tis night.”
Still, Man, in thy just pride, remember this:—
Thou hadst not made that thy sons' sons shall ask
What the word king may mean in their day's task,
But for the light that led: and if light is,
It is because God said, Let there be light.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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