Explore "Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Say over again, and yet once over again, / That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated / Should seem a "cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat it, / Remember, never to the hill or plain, / Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain / Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.
Belovëd, I, amid the darkness greeted / By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain / Cry, "Speak once more-thou lovest!" Who can fear / Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll, / Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? / Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll / The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear, / To love me also in silence with thy soul.