Nor all which makes me tired of all, self-viewed,--
That was the chrism of love, which loves own crown,
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
Nor all which others viewing, turn to go,
Sonnet XXXVIII
His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
Nor Gods infliction, nor deaths neighbourhood,
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Sorrow and sorrow ? Nay, I rather thrilled,
The onward path, and feared to overlean
Because thou hast the faith and love to see,
As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.
And strong since then, I think that God has willed
Sonnet XXXVI
Nothing repels thee,...Dearest, teach me so
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
For thine and thee, an image only so
Sonnet XXXVIII: First Time He Kissed Me
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
Thy purity of likeness and distort
Through that same souls distracting lethargy,
In the new Heavens,--because nor sin nor woe,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, list,"
In the new Heavens,--because nor sin nor woe,
Nor all of which makes me tired of all, self-viewed,--
And Love, be false! if he, to keep one oath,
To last, a love set pendulous between
The third upon my lips was folded down
I have been proud and said, "My love, my own."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The dim and weary witness of lifes race,--
Thy purity of likeness and distort
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
A still renewable fear ... O love, O troth ...
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
Because thou hast the power and ownst the grace
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
To look through and behind this mask of me
It is that distant years which did not take
(Against which years have beat thus blanchingly
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
To last, a love set pendulous between
A still renewable fear . . . O love, O troth . . .
Lest these enclasped hands should never hold,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its Oh, list,
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
Nor Gods infliction, nor deaths neighborhood,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
te,
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
This mutual kiss drop down between us both
Distrusting every light that seemed to gild
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I have been proud and said, My love, my own.
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
When we met first and loved, I did not build
Must lose one joy, by his lifes star foretold.
To pour out gratitude, as thou dost, good!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning