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 |