Sonnet Xxxi
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Thou comest ! all is said without a word. I sit beneath thy looks, as children do In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through Their happy eyelids from an unaverred Yet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erred In that last doubt ! and yet I cannot rue The sin most, but the occasion--that we two Should for a moment stand unministered By a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close, Thou dovelike help ! and, when my fears would rise, With thy broad heart serenely interpose: Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those, Like callow birds left desert to the skies.
Next 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxiii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxiv
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxix
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxv
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxvi
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxvii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxviii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Soul's Expression, The
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Substitution
Previous 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxx
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxviii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxvii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxvi
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxv
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxix
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxiv
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxiii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxi