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.

by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Other poems of ROSSETTI (329)

Comments (7)

I have looked for some biographical or historical context which might illuminate why Mr. Rossetti might be lying in the grass, enjoying the confidence of a fulfilled hope like a gambler with a loaded dice, but I am coming up empty. Perhaps I should try a scholarly inquiry other than Google. A fine poem, nonetheless.
a foretaste of what? i think i follow this poem which seems to me accessible, but i don't know what he's waiting for. is that the point? if any of you who read this thinks you know, i'd appreciate you communicating with me. -glen kappy
A great poem. Thanks for it.
Beautiful writing.Thanks poet for this sharing.
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. Nice poem.....
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