Almost Over – Dante Gabriel Rossetti

YOU say I should not think upon her now: 

But then I have stood beside her listening, 

And watched her rose—breathed lips when she would sing: 

And I can scarcely yet imagine how 

I ever should despise that stately brow 

And flowering breast that is so pure a thing. 

Alas for all the weary blood—running 

When from the heart love strives to tear a vow! 

And yet perchance—even as you tell me—soon 

Her spirit of my spirit will leave hold, 

And, when I hear her tread, I shall not blush 

Doubly, for love and shame. But then the moon 

Assuredly will rise, and Sleep shall fold 

Her hair round me, and Death will whisper Hush!