Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sonnet XXXV
If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
And be all to me ? Shall I never miss
Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss
That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange
When I look up, to drop on a new range
Of walls and floors, another home than this ?
Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is
Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change ?
That ‘s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried
To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;
For grief indeed is love and grief beside
Alas, I have grieved sol am hard to love
Yet love me–wilt thou ? Open thine heart wide
And fold within the wet wings of thy dove