Dante Gabriel Rossetti Quotes And Poems
Dante Gabriel Rossetti was a famous English poet, painter, illustrator, and translator. He was born on 12 May 1828, Rossetti was a staunch member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. He used Shakespearean literature, and William Blake's religious work to produce high-quality portraits. His father was a well known Italian scholar of Dante Alighieri.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti Famous Quotations And Poems:
Dante Gabriel Rossetti Quotes
“The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.” ― Dante Gabriel Rossetti
“Places that are empty of you are empty of life. ” ― Dante Gabriel Rossetti
“Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are.” ― Dante Gabriel Rossetti
“Love is the last relay and ultimate outposts of eternity” ― Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Bitter Song to His Lady
O LADY amorous, Merciless lady, Full blithely play'd ye These your beguilings. So with an urchin A man makes merry, — In mirth grows clamorous, Laughs and rejoices, — But when his choice is To fall aweary, Cheats him with silence. This is Love's portion: — In much wayfaring With many burdens He loads his servants, But at the sharing, The underservice And overservice Are alike barren. As my disaster Your jest I cherish, And well may perish.
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Even so a falcon Is sometimes taken And scantly cautell'd; Till when his master At length to loose him, To train and use him, Is after all gone, — The creature's throttled And will not waken. Wherefore, my lady, If you will own me, O look upon me! If I'm not thought on, At least perceive me! O do not leave me So much forgotten! If, lady, truly You wish my profit, What follows of it Though still you say so? — For all your well-wishes I still am waiting. I grow unruly, And deem at last I'm Only your pastime.
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A child will play so, Who greatly relishes Sporting and petting With a little wild bird: Unaware he kills it, — Then turns it, feels it, Calls it with a mild word, Is angry after, — Then again in laughter Loud is the child heard. O my delightful My own my lady, Upon the Mayday Which brought me to you Was all my haste then But a fool's venture? To have my sight full Of you propitious Truly my wish was, And to pursue you And let love chasten My heart to the centre. But warming, lady, May end in burning. Of all this yearning What comes, I beg you? In all your glances What is't a man sees? — Fever and ague.
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A Death-Parting
LEAVES and rain and the days of the year, (Water-willow and wellaway,) All these fall, and my soul gives ear, And she is hence who once was here. (With a wind blown night and day.) Ah! but now, for a secret sign, (The willow's wan and the water white,) In the held breath of the day's decline Her very face seemed pressed to mine. (With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain; (The willows wave on the water-way,)
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Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain, But warm they'll be when we meet again. (With a wind blown night and day.) Mists are heaved and cover the sky; (The willows wail in the waning light,) O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,— They seal my soul, I cannot die. (With a wind blown day and night.) Leaves and rain and the days of the year, (Water-willow and wellaway,) All still fall, and I still give ear, And she is hence, and I am here. (With a wind blown night and day.)
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A Prayer
LADY, in thy proud eyes There is a weary look, As if the spirit we know through them Were daunted with rebuke To think that the heart of man henceforth Is read like a read book. Lady, in thy lifted face The solitude is sore; The true solitude follows the crowd. Will it be less or more When the words have been spoken to thee Which my heart is seeking for? Lady, canst thou not guess The words which my thoughts seek?
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Perhaps thou deem'st them well to spurn And better not to speak. Oh thou must know my love is strong, Hearing my voice so weak. Lady, ah go not thus: Lady, give ear again: Lady, oh learn from me that yet There may one thing remain Which stands not in the knowledge thou hast And in thy lore of men. Lady, the darkness lasteth long Ere the dawn touch the skies; Many are the leagues of wilderness Till ye come where the green lies; Nay often betwixt doubt and doubt Death whispers and makes wise. Lady, has not my thought Dared much? For I would be The ending of darkness and the dawn Of a new day to thee, And thine oasis, and thy place of rest, And thy time of peace, lady.
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Almost Over
YOU say I should not think upon her now: But then I have stood beside her listening, And watched her rose—breathed lips when she would sing: And I can scarcely yet imagine how I ever should despise that stately brow And flowering breast that is so pure a thing.
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Alas for all the weary blood—running When from the heart love strives to tear a vow! And yet perchance—even as you tell me—soon Her spirit of my spirit will leave hold, And, when I hear her tread, I shall not blush Doubly, for love and shame. But then the moon Assuredly will rise, and Sleep shall fold Her hair round me, and Death will whisper Hush!
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Another Love
OF her I thought who now is gone so far: And, the thought passing over, to fall thence Was like a fall from spirit into sense Or from the heaven of heavens to sun and star. None other than Love's self ordained the bar 'Twixt her and me; so that if, going hence, I met her, it could only seem a dense Film of the brain,—just nought, as phantoms are.
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Now when I passed your threshold and came in, And glanced where you were sitting, and did see Your tresses in these braids and your hands thus,— I knew that other figure, grieved and thin, That seemed there, yea that was there, could not be, Though like God's wrath it stood dividing us.
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Blake
Epitaph
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All beauty to pourtray, Therein his duty lay, And still through toilsome strife Duty to him was life— Most thankful still that duty Lay in the paths of beauty.
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A Match With The Moon
WEARY already, weary miles to-night I walked for bed: and so, to get some ease, I dogged the flying moon with similes. And like a wisp she doubled on my sight In ponds; and caught in tree-tops like a kite; And in a globe of film all liquorish Swam full-faced like a silly silver fish;— Last like a bubble shot the welkin's height Where my road turned, and got behind me, and sent My wizened shadow craning round at me, And jeered, “So, step the measure,—one two three!” And if I faced on her, looked innocent. But just at parting, halfway down a dell, She kissed me for good-night. So you'll not tell.
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Pierre Auguste Renoir Famous Quotes
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At The Sun-Rise In 1848
God said, Let there be light; and there was light. Then heard we sounds as though the Earth did sing And the Earth's angel cried upon the wing: We saw priests fall together and turn white: And covered in the dust from the sun's sight, A king was spied, and yet another king.
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We said: “The round world keeps its balancing; On this globe, they and we are opposite,— If it is day with us, with them 'tis night.” Still, Man, in thy just pride, remember this:— Thou hadst not made that thy sons' sons shall ask What the word king may mean in their day's task, But for the light that led: and if light is, It is because God said, Let there be light.
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Dawn On The Night-Journey
TILL dawn the wind drove round me. It is past And still, and leaves the air to lisp of bird, And to the quiet that is almost heard Of the new-risen day, as yet bound fast In the first warmth of sunrise. When the last Of the sun's hours to-day shall be fulfilled, There shall another breath of time be stilled For me, which now is to my senses cast As much beyond me as eternity, Unknown, kept secret.
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On the newborn air The moth quivers in silence. It is vast, Yea, even beyond the hills upon the sea, The day whose end shall give this hour as sheer As chaos to the irrevocable Past.
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A Sea-Spell
HER lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree, While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell Between its chords; and as the wild notes swell, The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea.
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But to what sound her listening ear stoops she? What netherworld gulf-whispers doth she hear, In answering echoes from what planisphere, Along the wind, along the estuary? She sinks into her spell: and when full soon Her lips move and she soars into her song, What creatures of the midmost main shall throng In furrowed surf-clouds to the summoning rune; Till he, the fated mariner, hears her cry, And up her rock, bare-breasted, comes to die?
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Henri Matisse Famous Quotes
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Dante Gabriel Rossetti Most Famous Paintings
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