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    <strong>So 16 - A, because thou overest so</strong>

    XVI

    A, because thou overest so,

    Because thou art more noble and like a king,

    Thou st prevail against my fears and fling

    Thy purple rouill my heart shall grow

    Too close against thi heh to know

    How it shook when alone. Why, quering

    May prove as lordly and plete a thing

    In lifting upward, as in crushing low!

    And as a van<u></u>quished soldier yields his sword

    To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,

    Even so, Beloved, I at last record,

    Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,

    I rise above abasement at the word.

    Ma<figure></figure>ke thy love larger to enlarge my worth.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So 17 - My poet, thou st tou all the notes</strong>

    XVII

    My poet, thou st tou all the notes

    God set between his After and Before,

    And strike up and strike off the general roar

    Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats

    In a serene air purely. Antidotes

    Of medicated musiswering for

    Mankinds forlor uses, thou st pour

    From theo their ears. Gods will devotes

    Thio suds, and mio wait on thine.

    How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?

    A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine

    Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?

    A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine?

    A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So 18 - I never gave a lock of hair away</strong>

    XVIII

    I never gave a lock of hair away

    To a man, Dearest, except this to thee,

    Whiow upon my fihoughtfully,

    I ring out to the full browh and say

    Take it. My day of youth weerday;

    My hair no longer boun<dfn>九九藏书</dfn>ds to my foots glee,

    Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle-tree,

    As girls do, any more: it only may

    Now shade on two pale cheeks the mark of tears,

    Taught drooping from the head that hangs aside

    Through sorrows trick. I thought the funeral-shears

    Would take this first, but Love is justified,—

    Take it thou,—finding pure, from all those years,

    The kiss my mother left here when she died.<strike>九九藏书</strike>

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So 19 - The souls Rialto hath its merdise</strong>

    XIX

    The souls Rialto hath its merdise;

    I barter curl for curl upon that mar<kbd>九九藏书</kbd>t,

    And from my poets forehead to my heart

    Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—

    As purply black, as erst to Pindars eyes

    The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart

    The nine white Muse-brows. For this terpart, . . .

    The bay-s shade, Beloved, I surmise,

    Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!

    Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,

    I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,

    And lay the gift where nothing hih;

    Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack

    No natural heat till mine grows cold ih.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So 20 - Beloved, my Beloved, when I think</strong>

    XX

    Beloved, my Beloved, when I think

    That thou wast in the world a year ago,

    What time I sat alone here in the snow

    And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink

    No moment at thy voice, but, link by link,

    Went ting all my s as if that so

    They never could fall off at any blow

    Struck by thy possible hand,—why, thus I drink

    Of lifes great cup of wonder ! Wonderful,

    o feel thee thrill the day ht

    With personal act or speeor ever cull

    Some presce of thee with the blossoms white

    Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,

    Who ot guess Gods prese of sight.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

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