Sonnet I

Poem By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-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.'

Comments about Sonnet I

I've only really been drawn into poetry because of high school - ya, THAT. But I'm really glad I did. We had to choose four poems to analyze and this is one of them. It is beautiful, really, once you have analyzed it completely you know how much goes into just writing 14 lines. Elizabeth Barrett Browning is an inspiration of time, her works are timeless. This is so touching and tender to the heart. The clincher at the end is very sweet and can be described nothing short of a classic.


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Other poems of BROWNING

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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

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SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.

Sonnet 43 - How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

Sonnet 14 - If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Nought

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If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say

From ‘the Soul’s Travelling’

God, God!
With a child’s voice I cry,
Weak, sad, confidingly—
God, God!

Discontent

LIGHT human nature is too lightly tost
And ruffled without cause, complaining on--
Restless with rest, until, being overthrown,
It learneth to lie quiet. Let a frost