Sonnets from the Portuguese iii
1806-1861
GO from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore--
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
DayPoems Poem No. 636
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/636.html">Sonnets from the Portuguese iii by Elizabeth Barrett Browning</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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