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Elizabeth Barrett-Browning (Элизабет Барретт-Браунинг)


Sonnets from the portuguese. 31. Thou comest! all is said without a word


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 dove-like 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.



Elizabeth Barrett-Browning's other poems:
  1. The Holy Night
  2. Rosalind's Scroll
  3. Only a Curl
  4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 27. My own Belovëd, who hast lifted me
  5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night


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Английская поэзия