XXXI

Thou comest! all is said without a word.
I sit beneath thy looks, as children do
In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through
Their happy eyelids from an unaverred
Yet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erred
In that last doubt! and yet I cannot rue
The sin most, but the occasion⁠—that we two
Should for a moment stand unministered
By a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,
Thou dove-like help! and when my fears would rise,
With thy broad heart serenely interpose:
Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies
These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those,
Like callow birds left desert to the skies.

Where this text comes from

First published in Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850). First located printing is this volume; an earlier periodical printing has not been established. [1] [2]

Structure read from the source's markup; the words have not been compared against a page scan. Last checked 2026-08-20.

Taken from Standard Ebooks, standardebooks/elizabeth-barrett-browning_sonnets-from-the-portuguese, sonnets-from-the-portuguese.xhtml. Rights: public domain (SE dedication; underlying text pre-1931).

Earlier sources (2)

This poem as JSON or plain text. Line anchors #L1–#L14.

Cite this poem

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861). “XXXI.” First published in Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850). Text: Poem Index, https://poemindex.org/elizabeth-barrett-browning/xxxi/. Append #L14 to cite line 14, or #L4-L9 for lines 4–9.

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