607. Sonnets from the Portuguese XXX

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806—1861)

  I SEE thine image through my tears to-night,

  And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How

  Refer the cause?—Beloved, is it thou

  Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte

  Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite

  May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow,

  On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow,

  Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight,

  As he, in his swooning ears, the choir’s Amen.

  Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all

  The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when

  Too vehement light dilated my ideal,

  For my soul’s eyes? Will that light come again,

  As now these tears come—falling hot and real?