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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Sonnets from the Portuguese. 9. Can it be right to give what I can give?


Can it be right to give what I can give?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any loveЧwhich were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. 



Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Elizabeth Barrett-Browning's other poems:
  1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
  2. Sonnets from the portuguese. 31. Thou comest! all is said without a word
  3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 18. I never gave a lock of hair away
  4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast
  5. A Year's Spinning


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