Explore "Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart! / Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise / On one another, as they strike athwart / Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art / A guest for queens to social pageantries, / With gages from a hundred brighter eyes / Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part / Of chief musician. What hast thou to do / With looking from the lattice-lights at me, / A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through / The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree? / The chrism is on thine head,-on mine, the dew,- / And Death must dig the level where these agree.