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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think


Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sat alone here in the snow
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice, but, link by link,
Went counting all my chains as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand,why, thus I drink
Of lifes great cup of wonder!  Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech,nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing!  Atheists are as dull,
Who cannot guess Gods presence out of sight.



Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


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


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