Dante Gabriel Rossetti (Данте Габриэль Россетти)

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. 

1. The House of Life. Sonnet 26. Mid-Rapture
2. The House of Life. Sonnet 14. Youth's Spring-Tribute
3. The House of Life. Sonnet 31. Her Gifts
4. The House of Life. Sonnet 38. The Morrow's Message
5. The House of Life. Sonnet 61. The Song-Throe

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