Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art
Thee speaking, and me listening ! and replied
Men could not part us with their worldly jars,
Have heard this word thou hast said,--Himself, beside
And Death must dig the level where these agree.
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
We should but vow the faster for the stars.
And, h九九藏书网eaven being rolled between us at the end,
From God than from all others, O my friend !
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Less absolute exclusion. Nay is worse
III
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
II
A shadow across me. Straightway I was ware,
But only three in all Gods universe
A guest for queens to 九_九_藏_书_网social pageantries,
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair:
The silver answer rang,-- Not Death, but Love.
With gages from a hundred brighter eyes
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
Guess now who holds thee ? -- Death, I said. But, there,
I
One of us . . . that was God, . . . and laid the curse
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
On one another, as they strike athwart
Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part
So darkly on my eyelids, as to amerce
Our ministering two angels look surprise
Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart !
Those of my own life,九_九_藏_书_网 who by turns had flung
The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree ?
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend;
Of chief musician. What hast thou to do
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
Unlike our uses a九九藏书nd our destinies.
The deathweights, placed there, would have signified
The chrism is on thine head,--on mine, the dew,--
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through
With looking from the lattice-lights at me,
Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars:
My sight from seeing thee,--that if I had died,