604. Sonnets from the Portuguese XXVII

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806—1861)

  MY own Belovèd, who hast lifted me

  From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,

  And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown

  A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully

  Shines out again, as all the angels see,

  Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own,

  Who camest to me when the world was gone,

  And I who looked for only God, found thee!

  I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad.

  As one who stands in dewless asphodel

  Looks backward on the tedious time he had

  In the upper life,—so I, with bosom-swell,

  Make witness, here, between the good and bad,

  That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.