Sonnet Iv
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor, Most gracious singer of high poems ! where The dancers will break footing, from the care Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more. And dost thou lift this house's latch too poor For hand of thine ? and canst thou think and bear To let thy music drop here unaware In folds of golden fulness at my door ? Look up and see the casement broken in, The bats and owlets builders in the roof ! My cricket chirps against thy mandolin. Hush, call no echo up in further proof Of desolation ! there 's a voice within That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof
Next 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Ix
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet V
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Vi
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Vii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Viii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet X
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xi
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xiii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xiv
Previous 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Iii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Ii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet I
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 44 - Beloved, Thou Hast Brought Me Many Flowers
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 43 - How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 42 - 'my Future Will Not Copy Fair My Past'
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 41 - I Thank All Who Have Loved Me In Their Hearts
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 40 - Oh, Yes! They Love Through All This World Of Ours!
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 39 - Because Thou Hast The Power And Own'st The Grace
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet 38 - First Time He Kissed Me, He But Only Kissed