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Poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti


A Foretaste


AT length the then of my long hope was now;
Yet had my spirit an extreme unrest:
I knew the good from better was grown best
At length, but could not just as yet tell how.
So I lay straight along, and thrust my brow
Under the heights of grass. Hours struck. The West,
I knew, must be at change; but gazed not, lest
The heat against my naked face (no bough
For shade) should tease me mad, like poisoned spice.
I lay along, letting my whole self think,
Pressing my brow down that the thoughts might fix:
Just as a dicer who holds loaded dice,
Sure of his cast, keeps trifling with his drink
Ere he will throw, and still must taste and mix. 



Dante Gabriel Rossetti


Dante Gabriel Rossetti's other poems:
  1. The House of Life. Sonnet 39. Sleepless Dreams
  2. The House of Life. Sonnet 99. Newborn Death - 1
  3. The House of Life. Sonnet 3. Love's Testament
  4. The Staff and Scrip
  5. The House of Life. Sonnet 72. The Choice - 2


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