153 sudden light

Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882) Sudden Light | dænti (dænteɪ) ˈɡeɪbriəl rəˈzeti

(rɒzeti) sʌdn laɪt |
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around
the shore.
You have been mine before,
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of
yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying
flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight
once more?
The older final stanza, as found in the
1870 edition of Poems,
is:
Then, now,—perchance again! . .
O round mine eyes your tresses
shake!
Shall we not lie as we have lain
Thus for Love's sake,
And sleep, and wake, yet never break

the chain?

aɪ hæv biːn hɪə bɪfɔː |
bət wen ɔː hɑ(ʊ) aɪ kænət tel |
aɪ nəʊ ðə ɡrɑːs bɪjɒn(d) ðə dɔː |
ðə swiːt kiːn smel |
ðə saɪɪŋ sɑʊnd | ðə laɪts
ərɑʊn(d) ðə ʃɔː |
ju hæv biːn maɪn bɪfɔː |
hɑʊ lɒŋ əɡə(ʊ) aɪ meɪ nɒt nəʊ |
bət dʒʌs(t) wen ət ðæt swɒləʊz
sɔː
jɔ: nek tɜːnd səʊ |
sʌm veɪl dɪd fɔːl | aɪ njuː ɪt ɔːl əv
jɔː |
hæz ðɪs biːn ðʌs bɪfɔː |
ən(d) ʃæl nɒt ðʌs taɪmz
ediɪŋ flaɪt |
stɪl wɪð ɑ(ʊ)ə laɪvz ɑ(ʊ)ə lʌv rɪstɔː
ɪn deθs dɪspaɪt |
ən(d) deɪ ən(d) naɪt jiːld |wʌn dɪlaɪt
wʌns mɔː |
ði ˈəʊldə ˈfaɪnl̩ ˈstænzə | əz faʊnd ɪn
ðə 1870 ɪˈdɪʃn̩ əv ˈpəʊɪmz
ɪz |
ðen | nɑʊ | pətʃɑːns əɡen | |
əʊ rɑʊn(d) maɪn aɪz jɔ: tresɪz
ʃeɪk |
ʃəl wi nɒt la(ɪ) əz wi həv leɪn |
ðʌs fə lʌvz seɪk |

ən(d) sliːp | ən(d) weɪk | jet ˈnevə
breɪk ðə tʃeɪn |