Poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The House of Life. Sonnet 50. Willowwood - 2

And now Love sang: but his was such a song,
So meshed with half-remembrance hard to free,
As souls disused in death's sterility
May sing when the new birthday tarries long.
And I was made aware of a dumb throng
That stood aloof, one form by every tree,
All mournful forms, for each was I or she,
The shades of those our days that had no tongue.

They looked on us, and knew us and were known;
While fast together, alive from the abyss,
Clung the soul-wrung implacable close kiss;
And pity of self through all made broken moan
Which said, 'For once, for once, for once alone!'
And still Love sang, and what he sang was this:--

1. The House of Life. Sonnet 35. The Lamp's Shrine
2. The House of Life. Sonnet 74. Old and New Art - 1. St. Luke the Painter
3. The House of Life. Sonnet 23. Love's Baubles
4. Last Sonnets at Paris
5. The House of Life. Sonnet 17. Beauty's Pageant

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