1 I thought once how Theocritus had sung
2 But only three in all God's universe
3 Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
4 Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor
5 I lift my heavy heart up solemnly
6 Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
7 The face of all the world is changed, I think
8 What can I give thee back, O liberal
9 Can it be right to give what I can give?
10 Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
11 And therefore if to love can be desert
12 Indeed this very love which is my boast
13 And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
14 If thou must love me, let it be for nought
15 Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
16 And yet, because thou overcomest so
17 My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
18 I never gave a lock of hair away
19 The soul's Rialto hath its merchandize
20 Beloved, my Beloved, when I think
21 Say over again, and yet once over again
22 When our two souls stand up erect and strong
23 Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead
24 Let the world's sharpness like a clasping knife
25 A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
26 I lived with visions for my company
27 My own Beloved, who hast lifted me
28 My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
29 I think of thee! -- my thoughts do twine and bud
30 I see thine image through my tears to-night
31 Thou comest! all is said without a word
32 The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
33 Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
34 With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee
35 If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
36 When we met first and loved, I did not build
37 Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make
38 First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
39 Because thou hast the power and own'st
the grace
40 Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
41 I thank all who have loved me in their hearts
42 My future will not copy fair my past
43 How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
44 Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
| 37 Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make by |
| From Sonnets from the Portuguese |
XXXVII[]
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make
Of all that strong divineness which I know
For thine and thee, an image only so
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
It is that distant years which did not take
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
Thy purity of likeness and distort
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit.
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate.
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This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. |