Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Sonnets from the portuguese. 31. Thou comest! all is said without a word

Thou comest! all is said without a word.
I sit beneath thy looks, as children do
In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through
Their happy eyelids from an unaverred
Yet prodigal inward joy.  Behold, I erred
In that last doubt! and yet I cannot rue
The sin most, but the occasion—that we two
Should for a moment stand unministered
By a mutual presence.  Ah, keep near and close,
Thou dove-like help! and when my fears would rise,
With thy broad heart serenely interpose:
Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies
These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those,
Like callow birds left desert to the skies.

1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 26. I lived with visions for my company
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
3. A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed
4. The Soul's Expression
5. Lord Walter's Wife

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