Sonnet Xxxvii
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make, Of all that strong divineness which I know For thine and thee, an image only so Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break. It is that distant years which did not take Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow, Have forced my swimming brain to undergo Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake Thy purity of likeness and distort Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit: As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port, His guardian sea-god to commemorate, Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate.
Next 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxviii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Soul's Expression, The
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Substitution
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Tears
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : The Autumn
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : The Best Thing In The World
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : The Cry Of The Children
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : The Deserted Garden
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : The Holy Night
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : The House Of Clouds
Previous 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxvi
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxv
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxix
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxiv
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxiii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxxi
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxx
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxviii
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : Sonnet Xxvii