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<strong>V</strong>I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,
As ora her sepulchral urn,
And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn
The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see
What a great heap of grief lay h>.</a>id in me,
And how the red wild sparkles di<big></big>mly burn
Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in s
Could tread them out to darkness utterly,
It might９9liｂ. be well perhaps. But if instead
Thou wait beside me for the wind to blow
The gray dust up,></a> . . . those laurels on thine head,
O my Beloved, will not shield thee so,
That none of all the fires shall scord shred
The hair beh. Stand farther off then ! go.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
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