Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Ýëèçàáåò Áàððåòò Áðàóíèíã)

Sonnet 9. Can It Be Right To Give What I Can Give?

Can it be right to give what I can give?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any love—which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. 

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

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