"Dove Divine" - Rossetti's 1856 Valentine Poem to Elizabeth Siddal

 

" Dove Divine" Rossetti's Valentine Poem  to Elizabeth Siddal 1856: 

Rossetti's 1856 Valentine Day Poem to  Lizzie: " His Dove Divine" was written while he was in London and she was convalescing in Nice, France along with a companion, Mrs Kincaid. Rossetti lived in 14 Chatham Place,  not far from St Paul's cathedral, and where they lived later after their marriage in 1860. (Click on attached to see photo of the building:https://www.londonpicturearchive.org.uk/view-item?i=50980&WINID=1785257584561).

 Dove was one of his nicknames for her, alongside Guggums. For Elizabeth's letter to  Rossetti from Nice - see separate page. 

Yesterday was St. Valentine.
Thought you at all, dear dove divine,
Upon the beard in sorry trim
And rueful countenance of him,
That Orson who's your Valentine?

He daubed, you know, as usual.
The stick would slip, the brush would fall:
Yet daubed he till the lamplighter
Set those two seedy flames astir;
But growled all day at slow St. Paul.
The bore was heard ere noon; the dun
Was at the door by half—past one:
At least 'tis thought so, but the clock—
No Lizzy there to help its stroke—
Struck work before the day begun.
At length he saw St. Paul's bright orb
Flash back—the serried tide absorb
That burning West which it sucked up,
Like wine poured in a water cup;—
And one more twilight toned his daub.
Some time over the fire he sat,
So lonely that he missed his cat;
Then wildly rushed to dine on tick,—
Nine minutes swearing for his stick,
And thirteen minutes for his hat.
And now another day is gone:
Once more that intellectual one
Desists from high—minded pursuits,
And hungry, staring at his boots,
Has not the strength to pull them on
Come back, dear Liz, and looking wise 

In that arm—chair which suits your size
Through some fresh drawing scrape a hole.
Your Valentine & Orson's soul
Is sad for those two friendly eyes.