Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The House of Life: 71. The Choice, I
Eat thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Surely the earth, that's wise being very old,
Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold
Thy sultry hair up from my face; that I
May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high,
Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold.
We'll drown all hours: thy song, while hours are toll'd,
Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky.
Now kiss, and think that there are really those,
My own high-bosom'd beauty, who increase
Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way!
Through many years they toil; then on a day
They die not,--for their life was death,--but cease;
And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The House of Life: 71. The Choice, I by Dante Gabriel Rossetti )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Footsteps of Angels, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Farewell, Anne Brontë
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
Percy Bysshe Shelley