SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE (V)
by: Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(1806-1861)
- HEN
our two souls stand up erect and strong,
- Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
- Until the lengthening wings break into fire
- At either curving point,--what bitter wrong
- Can the earth do us, that we should not long
- Be here contented? 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 on earth, Belovèd--where the unfit
- Contrarious moods of men recoil away
- And isolate pure spirits, and permit
- A place to stand and love in for a day,
- With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.
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