GO from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life I shall command
The uses of my soul nor lift my hand 5
Serenely in the sunshine as before
Without the sense of that which I forbore¡ª
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do 10
And what I dream include thee as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself He hears that name of thine
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
Sonnets from the Portuguese iii
written byElizabeth Barrett Browning
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning