Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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

Dante Gabriel Rossetti Poems

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