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Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Sonnets from the Portuguese. 8. What can I give thee back, O liberal


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.



Elizabeth Barrett-Browning


Elizabeth Barrett-Browning's other poems:
  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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