Possession

THERE is a cloud above the sunset hill,
That wends and makes no stay,
For its goal lies beyond the fiery west;
A lingering breath no calm can chase away,
The onward labour of the wind's last will;
A flying foam that overleaps the crest
Of the top wave: and in possession still
A further reach of longing; though at rest
From all the yearning years,
10 Together in the bosom of that day
Ye cling, and with your kisses drink your tears.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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