Twists and turns
Personal torment and morbid melancholy
The problematic pleasures of taste
Afar away the light that brings cold cheer
Unto this wall, - one instant and no more
Admitted at my distant palace-door.
Afar the flowers of Enna from this drear
Dire fruit, which, tasted once, must thrall me here.
Afar those skies from this Tartarean grey
That chills me: and afar, how far away,
The nights that shall be from the days that were.
Afar from mine own self I seem, and wing
Strange ways in thought, and listen for a sign:
And still some heart unto some soul doth pine,
(Whose sounds mine inner sense is fain to bring,
Continually together murmuring,) -
"Woe's me for thee, unhappy Proserpine!"
—Dante Gabriel Rossetti, "Proserpina (For a Picture)"(1880)