Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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

Afterwards - Poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

SHE opened her moist crimson lips to sing;
And from her throat that is so white and full
The notes leaped like a fountain. A smooth lull
Was o'er my heart: as when—a viol—string
Having been broken—the first musical ring
Once over, all the rest is but a dull
Crude dissonance, howe'er thou twist and pull
The sundered fragments. A most weary thing
It is within the perished heart to seek
Pain, and not find it, but a clinging pall
Like sleep upon the mind. The mere set plan
Of life then comes, and grief that is not weak
Because it has no tears. Life's all—in—all
Was certainly at end when this began.


Comments about Afterwards by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

  • Susan Williams (5/16/2017 1:45:00 AM)


    A most weary thing
    It is within the perished heart to seek
    Pain, and not find it, but a clinging pall
    Like sleep upon the mind. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -If the pain is never sharp can the passion ever be deep?
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010



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