Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 15. Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear

Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine
With the same sunlight on our brow and hair.
On me thou lookest with no doubting care,
As on a bee shut in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine,
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so. But I look on thee—on thee—
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,
Hearing oblivion beyond memory;
As one who sits and gazes from above,
Over the rivers to the bitter sea. 

1. The Holy Night
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
3. Rosalind's Scroll
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 40. Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 23. Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead

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