Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861)

(From Sonnets from the Portuguese)

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

Re-sighing on my lips renunciative

Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live

For all thy adjurations? O my fears

That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,

So to be lovers; and I own and grieve

That givers of such gifts as mine are must

Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!

I will not soil thy purple with my dust,

Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,

Nor give thee any love,—which were unjust

Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.