Huntington Library (Revise Page Proofs for sonnets <title level="wrk">He and I and Love-Sweetness) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 ŠThe Huntington Library [Untitled] Dante Gabriel Rossetti Strangeways and Walden London 1870 March This is a revise proof for the first edition. [1-2] DGR DGR's notes on the placement of the texts head each separate poem. Huntington Library 93736 blue morrocco, Riviere binding 17.1 x 11.1 cm Commentary
Introduction

<xref doc="a.7-1870.raw">“Love-Sweetness”</xref> and <xref doc="a.15-1870.raw">“He and I”</xref> are printed here together in a two page revise that DGR called for in March 1870, just before his 1870 <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw"> <hi rend="i">Poems</hi> </xref> went into its final printing for publication. They were the last two poems added to the volume. Another copy of this revise is housed in the British Library (Ashley 1402).

Textual History: Composition

Textual History: Revision

Production History

Reception History

Iconographic

Printing History

Pictorial

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

House of Life DGR's note on the placement of the poem in the 1870 volume. <hi rend="c">LOVE-SWEETNESS.</hi> Sweet dimness of her loosened hair's downfall About thy face; her sweet hands round thy head In gracious fostering union garlanded; Her tremulous smiles; her glances' sweet recall Of love; her murmuring sighs memorial; Her mouth's culled sweetness by thy kisses shed On cheeks and neck and eyelids, and so led Back to her mouth which answers there for all:— What sweeter than these things, except the thing In lacking which all these would lose their sweet? :— The full heart's confluent confident heart's still fervour: the swift beat And soft subsidence of the spirit's wing, Then when it feels, in cloud-girt wayfaring, The breath of kindred plumes against its feet. ? House of Life DGR's note on the placement of the poem in the 1870 volume. <hi rend="c">HE AND I.</hi> Whence came his feet into my field, and why? How is it that he sees it all so drear? How do I see his seeing, and how hear The name his bitter silence knows it by? This was the little fold of separate sky Whose pasturing clouds in the soul's atmosphere Drew living light from one continual year: How should he find it lifeless? He, or I? Lo! this new Self now wanders round my field, With plaints for every flower, and for each tree A moan, the sighing wind's auxiliary: And o'er sweet waters of my life, that yield Unto his lips no draught but tears unseal'd, Even in my place he weeps. Even I, not he.