Explore "Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand / Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore / Alone upon the threshold of my door / Of individual life, I shall command / The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand / Serenely in the sunshine as before, / Without the sense of that which I forbore- / Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land / Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine / With pulses that beat double. What I do / And what I dream include thee, as the wine / Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue / God for myself, He hears that name of thine, / And sees within my eyes the tears of two.