Start your day with a thought-provoking quote from the world's greatest thinkers and writers. Sign up to The Daily Muse for free.
XXXVIII
Sonnets from the Portuguese
XXXVIII, SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE by Elizabeth B. Browning
An eText from LiteratureClassics.com.
Please see the eText readme for important copyright information (available from the options menu above if you are browsing online or as a separate file in the archive if you are browsing offline.)
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "O, list,"
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, "My love, my own."
|
 |
|
Sonnets from the Portuguese  I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII XXIII XXIV XXV XXVI XXVII XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI XXXII XXXIII XXXIV XXXV XXXVI XXXVII XXXVIII XXXIX XL XLI XLII XLIII XLIV |
|
 |
|
NEW!
|
—Advertise Here—
 |
|
Authors | Search | Submit | Quotes | Creative Writing | Interact | About | Login or Register | Contact