Sonnet XXI-XXV

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    <strong>So XXI</strong>

    Say ain, a once ain,

    That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

    Should seem  a cuckoo-song, as thou dost treat it,

    Remember, o the hill or plain,

    Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain

    es the fresh Spring in all her green pleted.

    Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted

    By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubts pain

    Cry,  Speak once more--thou lovest !  Who  fear

    Too many stars, though ea heaven shall roll,

    Too many flowers, though each shall  the year ?

    Say thou dost love me, love me, love me--toll

    The silver iterance !--only minding, Dear,

    To love me also in sileh thy soul.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXI: Say ain</strong>

    Say ain, a once ain,

    That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

    Should seem &quot;a cuckoo-song,&quot;as thou dost treat it,

    Remember, o the hill or plain,

    Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain

    es the fresh Spring in all her green pleted.

    Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted

    By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubts pain

    Cry, &lt;i&gt;Speak once more--thou lovest!&lt;/i&gt; Who  fear

    Too many stars, though ea heaven shall roll,

    Too many flowers, though each shall  the year?

    Say thou dost love me, love me, love me--toll

    The silver iterance!--only minding, Dear,

    To love me also in sileh thy soul.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXII</strong>

    When our two souls stand up ered strong,

    Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

    Until the lengthening wings break into fire

    At either curved point,--what bitter wrong

    the earth do to us, that we should not long

    Be here tented ? Think. In mounting higher,

    The angels would press on us and aspire

    To drop some golden orb of perfect song

    Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

    Rather oh, Beloved,--where the unfit

    trarious moods of men recoil away

    And isolate pure spirits, a

    A place to stand and love in for a day,

    With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXII: When Our Two Souls Stand Up</strong>

    When our two souls stand up ered strong,

    Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

    Until the lengthening wings break into fire

    At either curvèd point,--what bitter wrong

    the earth do to us, that we should not long

    Be here tehink. In mounting higher,

    The angels would press on us and aspire

    To drop some golden orb of perfect song

    Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

    Rather oh, Belovèd,--where the unfit

    trarious moods of men recoil away

    And isolate pure spirits, a

    A place to stand and love in for a day,

    With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXIII</strong>

    Is it indeed s<cite>９9lｉb?</cite>o ? If I lay here dead,

    Wouldst thou miss any life<var></var> in losing mine ?

    And would the sun for thee more coldly shine

    Because of grave-damps falling round my head ?

    I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read

    Thy thought so iter. I am thine--

    But . . . so much to thee ?  I pour thy wine

    While my hands tremble ? Then my soul, instead

    Of dreams of death, resumes lifes lower range.

    Then, love me, Love ! look on me--breathe on me !

    As brighter ladies do not t it strange,

    For love, to give up acres and degree,

    I yield the grave for thy sake, and exge

    My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee !

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>

    So XXIII: Is It Indeed So?</strong>

    Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,

    Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?

    And would the sun for thee more coldly shine

    Because of grave-damps falling round my head?

    I marvelled, my Belovèd, when I read

    Thy thought so iter. I am thine--

    But...so much t<big></big>o thee?  I pour your wine

    While my hands tremble? Then my soul, instead

    Of dreams of death, resumes lifes lower range.

    Then, love me, Love! Look on me--breathe on me!

    As brighter ladies do not t it strange,

    For love, to give up acres and degree,

    I yield the grave for thy sake, and exge

    My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee!

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXIV</strong>

    Let the worlds sharpness, like a clasping knife,

    Shut in upon itself and do no harm

    In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,

    A us hear no sound of human strife

    After the click of the shutting. Life to life--

    I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,

    And feel as safe as guarded by a charm

    Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife

    Are weak to injure. Very whitely still

    The lilies of our lives may reassure

    Their blossoms from their roots, accessible

    Aloo heavenly dews that drop not fewer,

    Growing straight, out of mans reach, on the hill.

    God only, who made us rich,  make us poor.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXIV: Let the Worlds Sharpness</strong>

    Let the worlds sharpness like a clasping knife

    Shut in upon itself and do no harm

    In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,

    A us hear no sound of human strife

    After the click of the shutting. Life to life -

    I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,

    And feel as safe as guarded by a charm

    Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife

    A<q>?</q>re weak to injure. Very whitely still

    The lilies of our lives may reassure

    Their blossoms from their roots, accessible

    Aloo heavenly dews that drop not fewer;

    Growing straight, out of mans reach, on the hill.

    God only, who made us rich,  make us poor.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong> So XXV</strong>

    A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne

    From year to year until I saw thy face,

    And sorrow after sorrow took the place

    Of all those natural joys as lightly worn

    As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn

    By a beati at daime. Hopes apace

    Were ged to long despairs, till Gods own grace

    Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

    My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring

    A drop adown thy calmly great

    Deep being ! Fast it sih, as a thing

    Which its own nature doth precipitate,

    While thih close above it, mediating

    Betwixt the stars and the unaplished fate.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

    <strong>So XXV: A Heavy Heart, Belovèd</strong>

    A heavy heart, Belovèd, have I borne

    From year to year until I saw thy face,

    And sorrow after sorrow took the place

    Of all those natural joys as lightly worn

    As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn

    By a beati at daime. Hopes apace

    Were ged to long despairs, till Gods own grace

    Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

    My heavy heart. Than thou didst bid me bring

    A drop adown thy calmly great

    Deep being! Fast it sih, as a thing

    Which its own nature doth precipitate,

    While thih close above it, mediating

    Betwixt the stars and the unaplished fate.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

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