SonnetsfromthePortuguese i

Sonnets from the Portuguese

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by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung

Of the sweet years the dear and wish'd-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 5

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 10

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.'

SonnetsfromthePortuguese i

Sonnets from the Portuguese