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 14. Youth's Spring-Tribute
2. The House of Life. Sonnet 99. Newborn Death - 1
3. The Staff and Scrip
4. The House of Life. Sonnet 40. Severed Selves
5. The House of Life. Sonnet 44. Cloud and Wind

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