Rossetti Archive Textual Transcription

Document Title: Notebook Page: Ashley A3840
Author: Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Date of Composition: 1871
Type of Manuscript: notebook texts

The full Rossetti Archive record for this transcribed document is available.

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Love's Changes
  • Even as a child, of sorrow that we give
  • The dead, but little in his heart can find,
  • Since without need of thought in his clear mind
  • Their turn it is to die & his to live:–
  • Even so the winged New love smiles to receive
  • Along his eddying plumes the whispering dawn's soft auroral ? soft-sorrowing wind,
  • Nor forward glorying casts one look behind
  • Where night-rack s shroud s the Old Love fugitive.
  • So change must be in every hour's recall,
  • There is a change with in every hour's recall,
  • 10And the last cowslip in the fields we see
  • On the same day with the first corn-poppy.
  • Alas for hourly change and yet Alas for all
  • The loves that from his hand proud Youth lets fall
  • Even as the beads of a told rosary!

For Safe. Turn key once to release handle.

Then turn handle. Then turn key


To paint Virgin & Child — child climbs

up mother's bosom. Angels behind might

hold branches of the Tree of Life & Tree

of Knowledge. In distance might be seen

Eden & flaming sword.

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[Note on “Sir Hugh the Heron”]
I make this note after a conversation with

a friend who had been reading in the British

Museum, a ridiculous first attempt of mine in verse

called “Sir Hugh the Heron,” which was printed

when I was 14, but written, except the last

page or two, at 12, as my family w d probably

remember. When I was 14, my grandfather

(who amused himself by having a small private

printing-press) offered, I if I would finish it,

to print it. I accordingly added the last

precious touches two years after writing the

rest. I leave this important explanation,

as there is no knowing what fool may someday

foist the absurd trash into print as a

production of mine. It is curious & surprising

to myself, as evincing absolutely no promise

at all,—less than should exist even at 12.

When I wrote it, the only po English poet

I had read was Sir Walter Scott, as is plain

enough in it. D. G. Rossetti.
Electronic Archive Edition: 1
Source File: ashleya3840.rad.xml
Copyright: By permission of the British Library