Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 9. Can it be right to give what I can give?

Can it be right to give what I can give?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any love—which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. 

1. To Flush, My Dog
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 20. Belovëd, my Belovëd, when I think
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast

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