Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Adequacy

NOW, by the verdure on thy thousand hills,
Beloved England, doth the earth appear
Quite good enough for men to overbear
The will of God in, with rebellious wills !
We cannot say the morning-sun fulfils
Ingloriously its course, nor that the clear
Strong stars without significance insphere
Our habitation: we, meantime, our ills
Heap up against this good and lift a cry
Against this work-day world, this ill-spread feast,
As if ourselves were better certainly
Than what we come to. Maker and High Priest,
I ask thee not my joys to multiply,--
Only to make me worthier of the least. 

1. The Holy Night
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 41. I thank all who have loved me in their hearts
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 25. A heavy heart, Belovëd, have I borne
4. The House of Clouds
5. Rosalind's Scroll

Print

1746 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version