Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/79

Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
 Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
 Her perfect peace.

AT HOME.

WHEN I was dead, my spirit turned
 To seek the much-frequented house:
I passed the door, and saw my friends
 Feasting beneath green orange boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
 They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
 For each was loved of each.

I listened to their honest chat:
 Said one: "To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands,
 And coasting miles and miles of sea."
Said one: "Before the turn of tide
 We will achieve the eyrie-seat."
Said one: "To-morrow shall be like
 To-day, but much more sweet."