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Edit box size: ⇓ More rows Reset to default size ⇒ More columns ''Note: I'm not writing all of the sonnets here, just some of them. There are around 40 total. ~Ayen'' written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning --- VI 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 Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore-- 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 And what I dream include thee, as the wine Must taste od 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. IX Can it be right to give what I have to give? To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years Re-sighing on my lips renunciative Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live For all thy adjurations? O my fears, That this can scarce be right! We are not peers So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve, That givers of such gifts as mine are, must Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas! I will not soil thy purple with my dust, Not breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass, Nor give thee any love, which were unjust. Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. X Yet love, mere love, is beautiful indeed And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed: And love is fire. And when I say at need ''I love thee''...mark!...''I love thee''--in thy sight I stand transfigured, glorified aright, With conscience of the new rays that proceed Out of my face towards thine. There's nothing low In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures Who love God, God accepts while loving so. And what I ''feel'', across the inferior features Of what I ''am'', doth flash itself, and show How that great work of Love enhances Nature's. XLIV Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers Plucked in the garden, all the Summer through And Winter, and it seemed as if they grew In their close room, nor missed the sun and showers. So, in the like name of that love of ours, Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too, And which on warm and cold days I withdrew From my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers Be overgrown wiht bitter weeds and rue, And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine, Here's ivy!-- take them, as I used to do Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine. Instruct thine eyes to keep their colors true, And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine. This is a minor edit.
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