Explore "Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When our two souls stand up erect and strong, / Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, / Until the lengthening wings break into fire / At either curvëd point,-what bitter wrong / Can the earth do to us, that we should not long / Be here contented? Think! In mounting higher, / The angels would press on us and aspire / To drop some golden orb of perfect song / Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay / Rather on earth, Belovëd,-where the unfit / Contrarious moods of men recoil away / And isolate pure spirits, and permit / A place to stand and love in for a day, / With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.