Elizabeth Barrett Browning

(6 March 1806 – 29 June 1861 / Durham / England)

V - Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,
As once Electra her sepulchral urn,
And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn
The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see
What a great heap of grief lay hid in me,
And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn
Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn
Could tread them out to darkness utterly,
It might be well perhaps. But if instead
Thou wait beside me for the wind to blow
The gray dust up, . . . those laurels on thine head,
O my Beloved, will not shield thee so,
That none of all the fires shall scorch and shred
The hair beneath. Stand farther off then ! go.


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Read poems about / on: grief, hair, red, wind, heart, fire



Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 13, 2001

Poem Edited: Sunday, May 13, 2001


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