百度搜索 SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 天涯 或 SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.
<strong>So VI</strong>Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upohreshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall and
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 of 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.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So VI: Go From Me</strong>
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Heh in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upohreshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall and
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 of 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.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So VII</strong>
The face of all the world is ged, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole
God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,
And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.
The names of try, heaven, are ged away
For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;
And this . . . this lute and song . . . loved yesterday,
(The singing angels know) are only dear
Because thy name moves right in what they say.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So VII: The Face of All the World</strong>
The face of all the world is ged, I think,
Since fi. I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole
God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,
And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.
The names of try, heaven, are ged away
For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;
And this . . . this lute and song . . . loved yesterday,
(The singing angels know) are only dear
Because thy name moves right in what they say.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So VIII</strong>
What I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thi, unstained, untold,
And laid them oside of the-wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In ued largesse ? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?
Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colors from my life, a so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So VIII: What I Give Thee Back</strong>
What I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thi, unstained, untold,
And laid them oside of the wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In ued largesse? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all?
Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead<bdi>?</bdi>.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colours from my life, a so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther! let it serve to trample on.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So IX</strong>
it be right to give what I give ?
To let thee sit beh the fall of tears
As salt as mine, ahe 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 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 ted with the ungenerous. Out, alas !
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nive thee any love--which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee ! let it pass.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So IX: It Be Right to Give</strong>
it be right to give what I give?
To let thee sit beh the fall of tears
As salt as mine, ahe sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Thro藏书网ugh those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this 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 ted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nive thee any love--which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So X</strong>
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 sce of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thiheres nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: mea 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 enhanatures.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
<strong>So X: Yet Love, Mere Love</strong>
Yet, love, mere love, is beaut<dfn>藏书网</dfn>iful 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 sce of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thiheres nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: mea 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 enhanatures.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
百度搜索 SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 天涯 或 SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.