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<strong>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>XXII</strong>
When our two souls stand up ered strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings brea?k 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
trari..ous 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>XXIII</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 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>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 cliark>藏书网</mark>f 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 ri..fe
Are weak to injure. Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their<dfn></dfn> 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> 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>
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