Dante Gabriel Rossetti

(12 May 1828 – 9 April 1882 / London / England)

Dante Gabriel Rossetti Poems

81. Hidden Harmony 4/12/2010
82. Idle Blessedness 4/12/2010
83. In The Train, And At Versailles 4/12/2010
84. Insomnia 12/31/2002
85. Jenny 4/12/2010
86. Joan Of Arc 4/12/2010
87. Johannes Ronge 3/10/2012
88. John Keats 4/12/2010
89. L’envoi: Brussels, Hotel Du Midi 4/12/2010
90. La Bella Mano 4/12/2010
91. La Ricordanza 4/12/2010
92. Ladies that have intelligence in love 10/13/2015
93. Last Love [canzone] 4/12/2010
94. Last Sonnets At Paris 4/12/2010
95. Last Visit To The Louvre The Cry Of The P.R.B., After A Careful Examination Of The Canvases Of Ruben 4/12/2010
96. Limericks 4/12/2010
97. London To Folkestone (Half-Past One To Half-Past Five) 4/12/2010
98. Lost On Both Sides 1/3/2003
99. Love-Lily 1/1/2004
100. Love's Nocturn 1/1/2004
101. Love's Nocturne 1/3/2003
102. Lxvi The Heart Of The Night 12/31/2002
103. Lxxi The Choice, I 12/31/2002
104. Lxxii The Choice, Ii 12/31/2002
105. Lxxiii The Choice, Iii 12/31/2002
106. Maccracken 4/12/2010
107. Mary Magdalene At The Door Of Simon The Pharisee. 4/12/2010
108. Mary's Girlhood (For A Picture) 1/1/2004
109. Memory 4/12/2010
110. Messer Dante A Messer Bruno 4/12/2010
111. Michael Scott’s Wooing 4/12/2010
112. Mnemosyne 4/12/2010
113. Motto To The Card Dealer 4/12/2010
114. My Sister's Sleep 12/31/2002
115. On A Handful Of French Money 4/12/2010
116. On Browning’s Sordello 4/12/2010
117. On Burns 4/12/2010
118. On Certain Elizabethan Revivals 4/12/2010
119. On Christina Rossetti 4/12/2010
120. On Leaving Bruges 4/12/2010
Best Poem of Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Autumn Song

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing

Read the full of Autumn Song

Broken Music

The mother will not turn, who thinks she hears
Her nursling's speech first grow articulate;
But breathless with averted eyes elate
She sits, with open lips and open ears,
That it may call her twice. 'Mid doubts and fears
Thus oft my soul has hearkened; till the song,
A central moan for days, at length found tongue,
And the sweet music welled and the sweet tears.

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