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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert


And therefore if to love can be desert,
I am not all unworthy.  Cheeks as pale
As these you see, and trembling knees that fail
To bear the burden of a heavy heart,
This weary minstrel-life that once was girt
To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail
To pipe now gainst the valley nightingale
A melancholy music,why advert
To these things?  O Belovëd, it is plain
I am not of thy worth nor for thy place!
And yet, because I love thee, I obtain
From that same love this vindicating grace
To live on still in love, and yet in vain,
To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.



Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Elizabeth Barrett-Browning's other poems:
  1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
  2. Sonnets from the portuguese. 31. Thou comest! all is said without a word
  3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast
  4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 18. I never gave a lock of hair away
  5. A Year's Spinning


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