Poems. A New Edition (1881), proof Signature B (Delaware Museum, author's first proof (partial)) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Text courtesy of The Delaware Art Museum Poems. A New Edition Dante Gabriel Rossetti F. S. Ellis Strangeways and Walden London 1881 May 12 (circa) proof 1-2, 15-16 1 DGR Library, Delaware Art Museum 10 point; 6 point leading roman 22 2 cm 3.8 cm 2 cm 2.5 cm 19 x 12.8cm (crown octavo) Commentary
Introduction

This is a partial first author's proof for signature B. The correction on page 1 shows that this proof was made directly from the Tauchnitz proof pages.

Textual History: Composition

Textual History: Revision

Three sets of proof materials survive for this signature. Besides this partial first author's proof, the Delaware Art Museum library has a partial first revise and an uncorrected a complete final proof.

Printing History

Reception History

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

194 Notation at upper right. Revise DGR's note to the printer at upper left There shd be a leaf inscribed POEMS before this DGR's note to the printer just above the cancelled title heading. B <hi rend="c"> <del>POEMS.</del> </hi> ----- <hi rend="c">THE BLESSED DAMOZEL</hi>. The blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even; She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven. Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, No wrought flowers did adorn, But a white rose of Mary's gift, For service meetly worn; Her hair that lay along her back Was yellow like ripe corn. Herseemed she scarce had been a day One of God's choristers; The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers; Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years. (To one, it is ten years of years. . . . Yet now, and in this place, Surely she leaned o'er me—her hair Fell all about my face. . . . Nothing: the autumn-fall of leaves. The whole year sets apace.) It was the rampart of God's house That she was standing on; By God built over the sheer depth The which is Space begun; So high, that looking downward thence She scarce could see the sun. It lies in Heaven, across the flood Of ether, as a bridge. Beneath, the tides of day and night With flame and darkness ridge The void, as low as where this earth Spins like a fretful midge. ‘Oh he says that Keith of Ewern's cry, Sister Helen, Is ever to see you ere he die.’ ‘In all that his soul sees, there am I, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, The soul's one sight, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne.’ ‘What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He yields you these and craves full fain, Sister Helen, You pardon him in his mortal pain.’ ‘What else he took will he give again, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Not twice to give, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He calls your name in an agony, Sister Helen, That even dead Love must weep to see.’ ‘Hate, born of Love, is blind as he, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Love turned to hate, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Oh it's Keith of Keith now that rides fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white hair on the blast.’ ‘The short short hour will soon be past, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He looks at me and he tries to speak, Sister Helen, But oh! his voice is sad and weak!’ ‘What here should the mighty Baron seek, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is this the end, between Hell and Heaven?)