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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning
AND, O beloved voices, upon which Ours passionately call because erelong Ye brake off in the middle of that song We sang together softly, to enrich The poor world with the sense of love, and witch, The heart out of things evil,--I am strong, Knowing ye are not lost for aye among The hills, with last year's thrush. God keeps a niche In Heaven to hold our idols; and albeit He brake them to our faces and denied That our close kisses should impair their white, I know we shall behold them raised, complete, The dust swept from their beauty,--glorified New Memnons singing in the great God-light.
Elizabeth Barrett-Browning's other poems:
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