Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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

Viii - Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the-wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?
Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colors from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.


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Read poems about / on: purple, god, heart, life, running



Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 13, 2001

Poem Edited: Sunday, May 13, 2001


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