SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet !
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection -- thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.
More verses by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
- Sonnet 43 - How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways
- Sonnet 14 - If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Nought
- How Do I Love Thee?
- Paraphrase on Anacreon: Ode to the Swallow
- Love