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Dante Gabriel Rossetti - William Blake
Work rating: Low

THIS is the place. Even here the dauntless soul,
The unflinching hand, wrought on; till in that nook,
As on that very bed, his life partook
New birth, and passed. Yon river`s dusky shoal,
Whereto the close-built coiling lanes unroll,
Faced his work-window, whence his eyes would stare,
Thought-wandering, unto nought that met them there,
But to the unfettered irreversible goal.
This cupboard, Holy of Holies, held the cloud
Of his soul writ and limned; this other one,
His true wife`s charge, full oft to their abode
Yielded for daily bread the martyr`s stone,
Ere yet their food might be that Bread alone,
The words now home-speech of the mouth of God.
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