This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,
<i>"I love her for her smile--her look--her way
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek--)
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
Of love even, as a good thing of my own:
Doth crown me with ruby large enow
Between our faces, to cast light on each ?--
I am not of thy worth nor for thy place!
To these things ? O Beloved, it is plain
For any weeping. Polyphemes white tooth
Then gathered, smell still. Mussulmans and Giaours,
And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak
And therefore if to love can be desert,
To bear the burden of a heavy heart,--
ince, not so long back but that the flowers
And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,
Sonnet XL: Oh, Yes! They Love
Sonnet XII: Indeed This Very Love
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Sonnet XIV: If Thou Must Love Me
Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,
Nay, let the silence of my womanhood
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
To pipe now gainst the valley nightingale
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Commend my woman-love to thy belief,
And think it soon when others cry Too late.
Except for loves sake only. Do not say
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day--
A lover, my Beloved ! thou canst wait
Will turn the thing called love, aside to hate
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My hand to hold my spirit so far off
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
And think it soon when others cry <i>Too late.</i>
To draw mens eyes and prove the inner cost,--
To these things? O Belovèd, it is plain
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
A melancholy music,--why advert
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sonnet XIII
Thou mayst love on, through loves eternity.
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek !)
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed,
I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach
To pipe now gainst the valley nightingale
This weary minstrel-life that once was girt
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech