Elizabeth Barrett-Browning (Элизабет Барретт-Браунинг)

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 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. The Holy Night
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 40. Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 23. Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 38. First time he kissed me, he but only kissed

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