VII - The face of all the world is changed, I think
The face of all the world is changed, I think, / Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
V - I lift my heavy heart up solemnly
❦
I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,
As once Electra her sepulchral urn,
And, looking in thine eyes, I over-turn
The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see
What a great heap of grief lay hid in me,
And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn
Through the ashen greyness. If thy foot in scorn
Could tread them out to darkness utterly,
It might be well perhaps. But if instead
Thou wait beside me for the wind to blow
The grey dust up, . . . those laurels on thine head,
O my Beloved, will not shield thee so,
That none of all the fires shall scorch and shred
The hair beneath. Stand further off then! go!
More poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The Prisoner
I count the dismal time by months and years / Since last I felt the green sward under foot,
XXXI - Thou comest! all is said without a word
Thou comest! all is said without a word. / I sit beneath thy looks, as children do
Cheerfulness Taught By Reason
I THINK we are too ready with complaint / In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope