Explore "At Home" by Christina Georgina Rossetti on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When I was dead, my spirit turned / To seek the much-frequented house / I passed the door, and saw my friends / Feasting beneath green orange-boughs; / From hand to hand they pushed the wine, / They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; / They sang, they jested, and they laughed, / For each was loved of each.
I listened to their honest chat: / Said one: "To-morrow we shall be / Plod plod along the featureless sands, / And coasting miles and miles of sea. " / Said one: "Before the turn of tide / We will achieve the eyrie-seat. " / Said one: "To-morrow shall be like / To-day, but much more sweet."