In the quiet of a shadowed glen,
Where whispers dance on quiet breeze,
There lies a realm beyond the ken,
Where Rossetti’s spirit finds its ease.

Her verses weave through time and space,
A tapestry of dreams and light,
In every word, a gentle grace,
That turns the day into the night.

Oh, echoes of her tender rhyme,
That speak of love, of loss, of more,
In every line, a sacred chime,
Unlocking hearts to tales of yore.

Through twilight’s veil, her voice resounds,
A melody of soul’s embrace,
In Rossetti’s tender bounds,
We find our solace, our own place.