Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 32. The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man's love!--more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,--
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat. 

1. The Holy Night
2. Only a Curl
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 27. My own Belovëd, who hast lifted me
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
5. A Year's Spinning

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