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Lizzie Siddal Video Reading by Angel
Lizzie Siddal
If beauty had a name
it would be hers
milliner’s model
who never dreamt
her fiery curls
her languid glance
would be transformed
to frail and fair
Ophelia
yet now this artist
half in love
floats her midst blossoms
where she lies for days
as he paints her
into history
lamps just so
to warm the cold
water dreaming death
where she fixes her eyes
’twixt heaven and earth
lets slip the silver chord
spirit adrift
to pass the hours
in this room redolent
of paint and prophecy
her dress spreads wide
as good Queen Gertrude said
those artificial garments
draw her down
to siren songs half-heard
the milliner’s girl
meanders midst shadows
haunted and strange
as lamps sputter and die
as water grows frigid
rapt in his creation
the painter takes
no notice
save for the way
her parted lips
her heavy-lidded eyes
transcend his best vision
become Ophelia
save for the way
her hands
relinquish all
accept everything
she floats serene
as one incapable of
her own distress
drifting in a mass
of flowers
and in this state
as from a stage
the girl
half-recognises a song
there’s fennel for you
and columbines
there’s rue for you
and here’s some for me . . .
steeped she lies
as melancholy blooms
and future shadows
gather like portents
before
her half-closed eyes
fearful then
the artist sees at last
the stunner’s roseate lips gone pale
the lamps gone out
alarmed
he lifts her
to warmth again
hears her whisper
as one wakened
from blesséd dream
or nightmare:
Poor silent babe
his red dove
bore us poppies
where are they now?
and whence the poems
he buried in my hair?
©2008, Angel

Beata Beatrix, Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Painted after Lizzie's death
Tribute to Lizzie Siddal
Courtesy of LizzieSiddal.com











