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Poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti


The House of Life. Sonnet 25. Winged Hours


Each hour until we meet is as a bird
That wings from far his gradual way along
The rustling covert of my soul,--his song
Still loudlier trilled through leaves more deeply stirr'd:
But at the hour of meeting, a clear word
Is every note he sings, in Love's own tongue;
Yet, Love, thou know'st the sweet strain suffers wrong,
Full oft through our contending joys unheard.

What of that hour at last, when for her sake
No wing may fly to me nor song may flow;
When, wandering round my life unleaved, I know
The bloodied feathers scattered in the brake,
And think how she, far from me, with like eyes
Sees through the untuneful bough the wingless skies?



Dante Gabriel Rossetti


Dante Gabriel Rossetti's other poems:
  1. The House of Life. Sonnet 3. Love's Testament
  2. The House of Life. Sonnet 20. Gracious Moonlight
  3. The House of Life. Sonnet 39. Sleepless Dreams
  4. The House of Life. Sonnet 99. Newborn Death - 1
  5. The Staff and Scrip


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