Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Ýëèçàáåò Áàððåòò Áðàóíèíã)

Sonnet 13. And Wilt Thou Have Me Fashion Into Speech

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee, finding words enough,
And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,
Between our faces, to cast light on each? —
I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach
My hand to hold my spirit so far off
From myself—me—that I should bring thee proof
In words, of love hid in me out of reach.
Nay, let the silence of my womanhood
Commend my woman-love to thy belief,—
Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed,
And rend the garment of my life, in brief,
By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,
Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.

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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