Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange

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 so I am hard to love.
Yet love me—wilt thou?  Open thy heart wide,
And fold within, the wet wings of thy dove.

1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert
5. To Flush, My Dog

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