I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wish'd-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw in gradual vision through my tears
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years--
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,
'Guess now who holds thee?'--'Death,' I said. But there
The silver answer rang--'Not Death, but Love.'
Sonnets From The Portuguese I
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(1)
Poem topics: hair, life, sad, silver, dear, voice, tongue, shadow, young, answer, gift, shape, vision, thought, guess, gracious, death, love, I love you, sweet, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Sonnets From The Portuguese I poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Best Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning