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. To Thomas Woolner
2. The House of Life. Sonnet 68. A Dark Day
3. The House of Life. Sonnet 23. Love's Baubles
4. The House of Life. Sonnet 70. The Hill Summit
5. The House of Life. Sonnet 35. The Lamp's Shrine

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