Sister Helen (fair copy of lines 204-245, Lilly Library collection): Rossetti Archive Document Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Used with permission of Lilly Library, Indiana University. Additional Stanzas for “Sister Helen” Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1881 fair copy manuscript 2 pages The text is written on one side each of two sheets DGR DGR Lilly Library, Indiana University unlined cream, 8 3/4 x 6 15/16 in. GURNEYIVORY LAID Commentary
Introduction

As DGR's note heading this text indicates, these are stanzas that he sent to the printer in May 1881 as <xref doc="a.1-1881.raw"> <hi rend="i">Poems. A New Edition</hi> </xref> was going through the press.

Textual History: Composition

Textual History: Revision

Production History

Reception History

Iconographic

Printing History

Pictorial

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

N.B. insert these stanzas at page 142 after “The way is long, between Hell & Heaven Note to locate the placement of the lines in the poem 91 Pagination number at bottom right “A lady's here, by a dark steed brought, Sister Helen, So darkly clad, I saw her not.” “See her now or never see aught, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What more to see, between Hell & Heaven?) ------------------------ “Her hood falls back, & the moon shines fair, Sister Helen, On the Lady of Ewern's golden hair.” “Blest hour of my power & her despair, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Hour blesth blest and bann'd, between Hell and Heaven!) “Pale, pale her cheeks, that in pride did glow, Sister Helen, 'Neath the bridal-wreath three days ago.” ”One morn for pride and three days for woe, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days, three nights, between Hell & Heaven!) 92 Pagination number at bottom right “Her clasped hands stretch from her bending head, Sister Helen; With the loud wind's wail her sobs are wed.” “What wedding-strains hath her bridal-bed, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What strains but death's, between Hell & Heaven?) “She may not speak, she sinks in a swoon, Sister Helen,— She lifts her lips and gasps on the moon.” “Oh! might I but hear her soul's blithe tune, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Her woe's dumb cry, between Hell & Heaven!) “They've caught her to Westholm's saddle-bow, Sister Helen, And her moonlit hair gleams white in its flow.” “Let it turn whiter than winter snow, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Woe-withered gold, between Hell & Heaven!)