Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Comfort

SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet !
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection -- thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before. 

1. To Flush, My Dog
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast

Lewis Morris Comfort ("THO' love be bought and honour sold")

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