Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
page 3 of 33 (09%)
page 3 of 33 (09%)
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To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair; And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,-- "Guess now who holds thee!"--"Death," I said, But, there, The silver answer rang, "Not Death, but Love." II But only three in all God's universe Have heard this word thou hast said,--Himself, beside Thee speaking, and me listening! and replied One of us . . . that was God, . . . and laid the curse So darkly on my eyelids, as to amerce My sight from seeing thee,--that if I had died, The death-weights, placed there, would have signified Less absolute exclusion. "Nay" is worse From God than from all others, O my friend! Men could not part us with their worldly jars, Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend; Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars: |
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