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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning


Sonnets from the Portuguese. 19. The souls Rialto hath its merchandize


The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise;
I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
And from my poet's forehead to my heart
Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,
As purply black, as erst to Pindar's eyes
The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart
The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . .
The bay-crown's shade, Beloved, I surmise,
Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!
Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,
I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,
And lay the gift where nothing hindereth;
Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack
No natural heat till mine grows cold in death. 



Elizabeth Barrett Browning


Elizabeth Barrett Browning's other poems:
  1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 22. When our two souls stand up erect and strong
  2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
  3. The Sweetness of England
  4. Aurora Leigh. Ninth Book
  5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 18. I never gave a lock of hair away


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