Rosalinds Scroll

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    <strong>Rosalinds Scroll</strong>

    I LEFT thee last, a child at heart,

    A woman scar years:

    I e to thee, a solemn corpse

    Whieither feels nor fears.

    I have no breath to use in sighs;

    They laid the dead-weights on mine eyes

    To seal them safe from tears.

    Look oh thine own calm look:

    I meet it calm as thou.

    No look of thine  ge this smile,

    Or break thy sinful vow:

    I tell thee that my poor sd heart

    Is of thih--thih--a part:

    It ot vex thee now.

    I have prayd for thee with bursting sob

    When passions course was free;

    I have prayd for thee with silent lips

    In the anguish none could see;

    They whisperd oft, She sleepeth so<samp>.99lib.</samp>ft--

    But I only pr<var>9９lib?</var>ayd for thee.

    Go to! I pray for thee no more:

    The corpses tongue is still;

    Its folded fingers<details>99lib?</details> point to heaven,

    But point there stiff and chill:

    No farther wrong, no farther woe

    Hath lice from the sin below

    Its tranquil heart to thrill.

    I charge thee, by the livings prayer,

    And the<footer>.99lib.</footer> deads silentness,

    To wrin<samp>99lib?</samp>g from out thy soul a cry

    Which God shall hear and bless!

    Lest Heavens own palm droop in my hand,

    And pale among the saints I stand,

    A saint panionless.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

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