| Poems by Women |
Sonnets from the Portuguese
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 1806-1861
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.'
From: Quiller-Couch, Arthur.
The Oxford Book of Verse. (1900)
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
