Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
page 23 of 33 (69%)
page 23 of 33 (69%)
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XXX I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How Refer the cause?--Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight, As he, in his swooning ears, the choir's amen. Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when Too vehement light dilated my ideal, For my soul's eyes? Will that light come again, As now these tears come--falling hot and real? XXXI Thou comest! all is said without a word. I sit beneath thy looks, as children do In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through |
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