If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
And be all to me? Shall I never miss
Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss
That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,
When I look up, to drop on a new range
Of walls and floors, another home than this?
Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is
Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?
That 's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried,
To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;
For grief indeed is love and grief beside.
Alas, I have grieved sol am hard to love.
Yet love me—wilt thou? Open thine heart wide,
And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.
More verses by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
- To Flush, My Dog
- Sonnet 22 - When Our Two Souls Stand Up Erect And Strong
- Sonnet 32 - The First Time That The Sun Rose On Thine Oath
- Sonnet 07 - The Face Of All The World Is Changed, I Think
- The Autumn