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Barrett Browning > Poems > Sonnets
from the Portuguese > XXXI. "Thou comest! all is said without a word..." by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) |
| 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 dovelike 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. |
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