Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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

Dante Gabriel Rossetti Poems

281. An Altar-Flame 4/12/2010
282. A Half-Way Pause 4/12/2010
283. Sonnet Iii: Love's Testament 4/12/2010
284. The Stream's Secret 1/3/2003
285. The Ballad Of Dead Ladies 1/3/2003
286. A Last Confession 4/12/2010
287. Astarte Syriaca 4/12/2010
288. Sonnet Lxxviii: Body's Beauty 4/12/2010
289. Sonnet Iv: Lovesight 4/12/2010
290. Mary's Girlhood (For A Picture) 1/1/2004
291. Xix Lilent Noon 12/31/2002
292. Xcvii A Superscription 12/31/2002
293. Aspecta Medusa ( For A Drawing) 12/31/2002
294. Lxxi The Choice, I 12/31/2002
295. A Death-Parting 4/12/2010
296. Lxxii The Choice, Ii 12/31/2002
297. Love's Nocturn 1/1/2004
298. Xli Through Death To Love 12/31/2002
299. Xxix Heart's Heaven 12/31/2002
300. Lxvi The Heart Of The Night 12/31/2002
301. Almost Over 4/12/2010
302. The Woodspurge 12/31/2002
303. Sister Helen 12/31/2002
304. The Sonnet 1/3/2003
305. An Epitaph For Keats 4/12/2010
306. Spring 1/3/2003
307. Song And Music 1/3/2003
308. My Sister's Sleep 12/31/2002
309. Xxxvi Life-In-Love 12/31/2002
310. From The House Of Life The Sonnet 1/1/2004
311. A Match With The Moon 4/12/2010
312. Love-Lily 1/1/2004
313. Genius In Beauty 1/3/2003
314. Lost On Both Sides 1/3/2003
315. Love's Nocturne 1/3/2003
316. Insomnia 12/31/2002
317. Soul's Beauty 1/3/2003
318. Woodspurge 1/3/2003
319. A Foretaste 4/12/2010
320. Dream-Land 1/3/2003
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
In...

Read the full of Autumn Song

Xxxvi Life-In-Love

Not in thy body is thy life at all
But in this lady's lips and hands and eyes;
Through these she yields thee life that vivifies
What else were sorrow's servant and death's thrall.
Look on thyself without her, and recall
The waste remembrance and forlorn surmise
That liv'd but in a dead-drawn breath of sighs
O'er vanish'd hours and hours eventual.

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