I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, published on Sun 05.20.2007 at 03:39
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, published on Sat 05.19.2007 at 00:43
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, published on Thu 05.10.2007 at 23:02
The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise;
I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
And from my poet's forehead to my heart
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, published on Sun 05.06.2007 at 05:39
Can it be right to give what I can give ?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, published on Tue 05.01.2007 at 08:52
I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How
Refer the cause? Beloved, is it thou