A Foretaste
Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1828 (London) – 1882 (Birchington-on-Sea)
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.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 38 sec read
- 65 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABBAABBACDECDE |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 644 |
Words | 127 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"A Foretaste" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/7472/a-foretaste>.
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