Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke
Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke
At Home
By Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)
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,        5
  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        10
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        15
  To-day, but much more sweet.”
“To-morrow,” said they, strong with hope,
  And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
“To-morrow,” cried they one and all,
  While no one spoke of yesterday.        20
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
  I, only I, had passed away:
“To-morrow and to-day,” they cried;
  I was of yesterday.
I shivered comfortless, but cast        25
  No chill across the tablecloth;
I all-forgotten shivered, sad
  To stay and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
  I who from love had passed away,        30
Like the remembrance of a guest
  That tarrieth but a day.

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