Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/367

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ONE SEA-SIDE GRAVE.
339
ONE SEA-SIDE GRAVE.
UNMINDFUL of the roses,
Unmindful of the thorn,
A reaper tired reposes
Among his gathered corn:
So might I, till the morn!

Cold as the cold Decembers,
Past as the days that set,
While only one remembers
And all the rest forget,—
But one remembers yet.


DE PROFUNDIS.
OH why is heaven built so far,
Oh why is earth set so remote?
I cannot reach the nearest star
  That hangs afloat.

I would not care to reach the moon,
One round monotonous of change;
Yet even she repeats her tune
  Beyond my range.

I never watch the scattered fire
Of stars, or sun's far-trailing train,
But all my heart is one desire,
  And all in vain: