To D.G. Rossetti, 2

Yet even if Death indeed with pitiful sign
Bade us drink deep of some oblivious draught,
Is it not well to know, ere we have quaffed
The soul-deceiving poppied anodyne,
That not in vain erewhile we drink the wine
Of life — that not all blankly or in craft
Of evil went the days wherein we laughed
And joyed i' the sun unknowing aught divine?

Not so thy doom whatever fate betide
Not so for thee O poet-heart and true.
Who fearless watched, as evermore it grew,
The shadow of Death creep closer to thy side.
A glory with thy ebbing life withdrew
And we inherit now its deathless Pride.
Rate this poem: 

Become a Patron!


No reviews yet.