The Song Throe - Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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The Song Throe
Dante Gabriel Rossetti

By thine own tears thy song must tears beget,
O Singer! Magic mirror thou hast none
Except thy manifest heart; and save thine own
Anguish or ardour, else no amulet.
Cisterned in Pride, verse is the feathery jet
Of soulless air-flung fountains; nay, more dry
Than the Dead Sea for throats that thirst and sigh,
That song o'er which no singer's lids grew wet.
The Song-god—He the Sun-god—is no slave
Of thine; thy Hunter he, who for thy soul
Fledges his shaft: to no august control
Of thy skilled hand his quivered store he gave:
But if thy lips' loud cry leap to his smart,
The inspir'd recoil shall pierce thy brother's heart.

Other Works by Dante Gabriel Rossetti:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLLcqOmaaYeMrQWwKIEvCUqUUfnrMhkjFQ

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