Quote #11
Each hour until we meet is as a bird That wings from far his gradual way along The rustling covert of my soul.
More from Dante Gabriel Rossetti
- And Love, our light at night and shade at noon, Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns away All shafts of shelterless tumultuous day.
- Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are.
- Even as the moon grows queenlier in mid-space When the sky darkens, and her cloud-rapt car Thrills with intenser radiance from afar,- So la…
- Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.
- Beauty like hers is genius.
- When all desire at last and all regret Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain, What shall assuage the unforgotten pain And teach the unf…
- At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart: And as the last slow sudden drops are shed From sparkling eaves when all the storm has…
- 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 ho…