Dante Gabriel Rossetti Poems

The hour which might have been yet might not be,
Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore
Yet whereof life was barren,—on what shore
...

LO the twelfth year—the wedding-feast come round
With years for months—and lo the babe new-born;
Out of the womb's rank furnace cast forlorn,
...

IN this new shade of Death, the show
Passes me still of form and face;
Some bent, some gazing as they go,
Some swiftly, some at a dull pace,
...

Was that the landmark? What,—the foolish well
Whose wave, low down, I did not stoop to drink,
But sat and flung the pebbles from its brink
...

Give honour unto Luke Evangelist;
For he it was (the aged legends say)
...

I

REND, rend thine hair, Cassandra: he will go.
Yea, rend thy garments, wring thine hands, and cry
...

This sunlight shames November where he grieves
In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun
The day, though bough with bough be over-run.
...

Sometimes I fain would find in thee some fault,
That I might love thee still in spite of it:
Yet how should our Lord Love curtail one whit
...

Lady, I thank thee for thy loveliness,
Because my lady is more lovely still.
Glorying I gaze, and yield with glad goodwill
...

We are upon the Scheldt. We know we move
Because there is a floating at our eyes
Whatso they seek; and because all the things
...