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Dante Gabriel Rossetti - A Foretaste
Work rating: Low

AT length the then of my long hope was now; 
Yet had my spirit an extreme unrest: 
I knew the good from better was grown best 
At length, but could not just as yet tell how. 
So I lay straight along, and thrust my brow 
Under the heights of grass. Hours struck. The West, 
I knew, must be at change; but gazed not, lest 
The heat against my naked face (no bough 
For shade) should tease me mad, like poisoned spice. 
I lay along, letting my whole self think, 
Pressing my brow down that the thoughts might fix: 
Just as a dicer who holds loaded dice, 
Sure of his cast, keeps trifling with his drink 
Ere he will throw, and still must taste and mix.
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