The Day-Dream

The Day-Dream

The Day-Dream

The Day-Dream

(for a picture)

The thronged boughs of the shadowy sycamore

Still bear young leaflets half the summer through ;

From when the robin ‘gainst the unhidden blue

Perched dark, till now, deep in the leafy core,

The embowered throstle’s urgent wood-notes soar

Through summer silence. Still the leaves come new ;

Yet never rosy-sheathed as those which drew

Their spiral tongues from spring-buds heretofore.

Within the branching shade of Reverie

Dreams even may spring till autumn : yet none be

Like woman’s budding day-dream spirit-fann’d.

Lo! tow’rd deep skies, not deeper than her look,

She dreams ; till now on her forgotten book

Drops the forgotten blossom from her hand.

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2 thoughts on “The Day-Dream

  1. I am so captivated by the wedding of poetry and Pre-Raphaelite art. It is a whole world to me… I’ve read that on his honeymoon with Lizzie, Dante developed his doppelganger motif(“double goer” in German, referring to the apparition of a living person) in his painting “How They Met Themselves”.
    http://www.rossettiarchive.org/docs/s118.r-1.rap.html

    I also enjoy the overflowing lyricism of “Severed Selves”.

    Dante Gabriel Rossetti
    Severed Selves

    Sonnet XL from “The House of Life: A Sonnet Sequence”

    Two separate divided silences,
    Which, brought together, would find loving voice;
    Two glances which together would rejoice
    In love, now lost like stars beyond dark trees;
    Two hands apart whose touch alone gives ease;
    Two bosoms which, heart-shrined with mutual flame,
    Would, meeting in one clasp, be made the same;
    Two souls, the shore wave-mocked of sundering seas:-
    Such are we now. Ah! may our hope forecast
    Indeed one hour again, when on this stream
    Of darkened love once more the light shall gleam? —
    An hour how slow to come, how quickly past,–
    Which blooms and fades, and only leaves at last,
    Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.

  2. Referring to it as a wedding is appropriate. I think, especially in Rossetti’s case, that there is a marriage of sorts in his poetic works and his art work. He used both as partners, reflecting the work.

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