All Poems
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Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXXIV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
With the same heart, I said, I'll answer theeAs those, when thou shalt call me by my name-Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,Perplexed and ruffled by life's strategy?When called before, I told how hastilyI dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,To run and answer with the smile that cameAt play last moment, and went on with meThrough my obedience
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXXIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hearThe name I used to run at, when a child,From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,To glance up in some face that proved me dearWith the look of its eyes
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXXII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The first time that the sun rose on thine oathTo love me, I looked forward to the moonTo slacken all those bonds which seemed too soonAnd quickly tied to make a lasting troth
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXXI
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Thou comest! all is said without a word
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXX
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I see thine image through my tears to-night,And yet to-day I saw thee smiling
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXVIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!And yet they seem alive and quiveringAgainst my tremulous hands which loose the stringAnd let them drop down on my knee to-night
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXVII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My own Belovèd, who hast lifted meFrom this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blownA life-breath, till the forehead hopefullyShines out again, as all the angels see,Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own,Who camest to me when the world was gone,And I who looked for only God, found thee!I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXVI
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I lived with visions for my companyInstead of men and women, years ago,And found them gentle mates, nor thought to knowA sweeter music than they played to me
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A heavy heart, Belovèd, have I borneFrom year to year until I saw thy face,And sorrow after sorrow took the placeOf all those natural joys as lightly wornAs the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turnBy a beating heart at dance-time
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXIX
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I think of thee!-my thoughts do twine and budAbout thee, as wild vines, about a tree,Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to seeExcept the straggling green which hides the wood
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXIV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Let the world's sharpness like a clasping knifeShut in upon itself and do no harmIn this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,And let us hear no sound of human strifeAfter the click of the shutting
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?And would the sun for thee more coldly shineBecause of grave-damps falling round my head?I marvelled, my Belovèd, when I readThy thought so in the letter
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When our two souls stand up erect and strong,Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,Until the lengthening wings break into fireAt either curvèd point,-what bitter wrongCan the earth do to us, that we should not longBe here contented? Think! In mounting higher,The angels would press on us and aspireTo drop some golden orb of perfect songInto our deep, dear silence
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXI
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Say over again, and yet once over again,That thou dost love me
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XX
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Belovèd, my Belovèd, when I thinkThat thou wast in the world a year ago,What time I sat alone here in the snowAnd saw no footprint, heard the silence sinkNo moment at thy voice, but, link by link,Went counting all my chains as if that soThey never could fall off at any blowStruck by thy possible hand,-why, thus I drinkOf life's great cup of wonder! Wonderful,Never to feel thee thrill the day or nightWith personal act or speech,-nor ever cullSome prescience of thee with the blossoms whiteThou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XVIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I never gave a lock of hair awayTo a man, Dearest, except this to thee,Which now upon my fingers thoughtfullyI ring out to the full brown length and say
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XVII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My poet, thou canst touch on all the notesGod set between His After and Before,And strike up and strike off the general roarOf the rushing worlds a melody that floatsIn a serene air purely
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XVI
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And yet, because thou overcomest so,Because thou art more noble and like a king,Thou canst prevail against my fears and flingThy purple round me, till my heart shall growToo close against thine heart henceforth to knowHow it shook when alone
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wearToo calm and sad a face in front of thine;For we two look two ways, and cannot shineWith the same sunlight on our brow and hair
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Belovèd, thou hast brought me many flowersPlucked in the garden, all the summer through,And winter, and it seemed as if they grewIn this close room, nor missed the sun and showers
