The Poetical Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Volume 10

Ellis and Elvey, 1891 - 380 páginas

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Página 180 - A Sonnet is a moment's monument,— Memorial from the Soul's eternity • To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be, Whether for lustral rite or dire portent, Of its own arduous fulness reverent: Carve it in ivory or in ebony, As Day or Night may rule; and let Time see Its flowering crest
Página 182 - Love through thee made known? Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,) Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own ? O love, my love 1 if I no more should see Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee, Nor
Página 229 - when the wan soul in that golden air Between the scriptured petals softly blown Peers breathless for the gift of grace unknown,— Ah ! let none other alien spell soe'er But only the one Hope's one name be there,— Not less nor more, but even that word alone.
Página 73 - More loud than the vesper-chime it fell." " No vesper-chime, but a dying knell, Little brother ! " (O Mother, Mary Mother, His dying knell, between Hell and Heaven f) " Alas 1 but I fear the heavy sound, Sister Helen ; Is it in the sky or in the ground ? " " Say, have they turned their horses round, Little brother
Página 207 - WITHOUT HER, WHAT of her glass without her ? The blank grey There where the pool is blind of the moon's face. Her dress without her ? The tossed empty space Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away. Her paths without her ? Day's appointed sway Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place Without her ? Tears, ah me
Página 256 - that the earth is changing, O my God I Nor that the seasons totter in their walk,— Not that the virulent ill of act and talk Seethes ever as a winepress ever trod,— Not therefore are we certain that the rod Weighs in thine hand to smite thy world; though
Página 252 - THE CARD-DEALER. COULD you not drink her gaze like wine ? Yet though its splendour swoon Into the silence languidly As a tune into a tune, Those eyes unravel the coiled night And know the stars at noon. The gold that's heaped beside her hand, In truth rich prize it were
Página 74 - Mother, Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven /) " See, see, the wax has dropped from its place, Sister Helen, And the flames are winning up apace ! " " Yet here they burn but for a space, Little brother ! " (O Mother, Mary Mother, Here for a space,
Página 66 - WHY did you melt your waxen man, Sister Helen ? To-day is the third since you began." " The time was long, yet the time ran, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven
Página 206 - IV. So sang he : and as meeting rose and rose Together cling through the wind's wellaway Nor change at once, yet near the end of day The leaves drop loosened where the heart-stain glows, So when the song died did the kiss unclose ; And her face fell back drowned, and was as

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