Poem Hunter
(5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894 / London)


Poem By Christina Georgina Rossetti

The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake,
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake.

I hang my harp upon a tree,
A weeping willow in a lake;
I hang my silent harp there, wrung and snapped
For a dream's sake.

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart;
My silent heart, lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed
For a dream's sake.

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Comments (3)

I do love this sad poem really, so close to me. So beautifully written, perfect for me.
The metaphor of love as a mirage is brilliant! How even something that never comes to pass, has a major impact on who we are.
what is the rhyme scheme and the number of metrical feet per line? ? i don't understand... and what is this about? ?