SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE (II)
by: Elizabeth Barrett Browning
MORE POEMS BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
- Unlike our uses and our destinies.
- Our ministering two angels look surprise
- On one another, as they strike athwart
- Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art
- A guest for queens for social pageantries,
- With gages from a hundred brighter eyes
- Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part
- Of chief musician. What hast thou to do
- With looking from the lattice-lights at me--
- A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through
- The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree?
- The chrism is on thine head--on mine the dew--
- And Death must dig the level where these agree.