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Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Элизабет Барретт Браунинг)


Sonnet 4. Thou Hast Thy Calling To Some Palace-Floor


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.



Elizabeth Barrett Browning's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 16. And Yet, Because Thou
  2. Sonnet 15. Accuse Me Not, Beseech Thee, That I Wear
  3. Sonnet 32. The First Time
  4. Grief
  5. Sonnet 17. My Poet, Thou Canst Touch


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