Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Bertha in the Lane lyrics

Put the broidery-frame away
 For my sewing is all done:
The last thread is used to day
 And I need not join it on
Though the clock stands at the noon
I am weary i have sewn
Sweet, for thee, a wedding-gown

Sister, help me to the bed
 And stand near me, Dearest-sweet
Do not shrink nor be afraid
 Blushing with a sudden heat!
No one standeth in the street?
By God's love I go to meet
Love I thee with love complete

Lean thy face down drop it in
 These two hands, that I may hold
'Twixt their palms thy cheek and chin
 Stroking back the curls of gold:
'T is a fair, fair face, in sooth
Larger eyes and redder mouth
Than mine were in my first youth

Thou art younger by seven years
 Ah! so bashful at my gaze
That the lashes, hung with tears
 Grow too heavy to upraise?
I would wound thee by no touch
Which thy shyness feels as such
Dost thou mind me, Dear, so much?

Have I not been nigh a mother
 To thy sweetness tell me, Dear?
Have we not loved one another
 Tenderly, from year to year
Since our dying mother mild
Said with accents undefiled
"Child, be mother to this child"!

Mother, mother, up in heaven
 Stand up on the jasper sea
And be witness I have given
 All the gifts required of me
Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned
Love that left me with a wound
Life it'self that turneth round!

 Thou art standing in the room
In a molten glory shrined
 That rays off into the gloom!
But thy smile is bright and bleak
Like cold waves I cannot speak
I sob in it, and grow weak

Ghostly mother, keep aloof
 One hour longer from my soul
For I still am thinking of
 Earth's warm-beating joy and dole!
On my finger is a ring
Which I still see glittering
When the night hides everything

Little sister, thou art pale!
 Ah, I have a wandering brain
But, I lose that fever bale
 And my thoughts grow calm again
Lean down closer closer still!
I have words thine ear to fill
And would kiss thee at my will

Dear, I heard thee in the spring
 Thee and Robert through the trees
When we all went gathering
 Boughs of May-bloom for the bees
Do not start so! think instead
How the sunshine overhead
Seemed to trickle through the shade

What a day it was, that day!
 Hills and vales did openly
Seem to heave and throb away
 At the sight of the great sky:
And the silence, as it stood
In the glory's golden flood
Audibly did bud, and bud

Through the winding hedgerows green
 How we wandered, I and you
With the bowery tops shut in
 And the gates that showed the view!
How we talked there thrushes soft
Sang our praises out, or oft
Bleatings took them from the croft:

Till the pleasure grown too strong
 Left me muter evermore
And, the winding road being long
 I walked out of sight, before
And so, wrapt in musings fond
Issued (past the wayside pond)
On the meadow lands beyond

I sate down beneath the beech
 Which leans over to the lane
And the far sound of your speech
 Did not promise any pain
And I blessed you full and free
With a smile stooped tenderly
O'er the May-flowers on my knee

But the sound grew into word
 As the speakers drew more near
Sweet, forgive me that I heard
 What you wished me not to hear
Do not weep so, do not shake
Oh, I heard thee, Bertha, make
Good true answers for my sake

Yes, and HE too! let him stand
 In thy thoughts, untouched by blame
Could he help it, if my hand
 He had claimed with hasty claim?
That was wrong perhaps but then
Such things be and will, again
Women cannot judge for men

Had he seen thee when he swore
 He would love but me alone?
Thou wast absent, sent before
 To our kin in Sidmouth town
When he saw thee who art best
Past compare, and loveliest
He but judged thee as the rest

Could we blame him with grave words
 Thou and I, Dear, if we might?
Thy brown eyes have looks like birds
 Flying straightway to the light:
Mine are older hush! look out
Up the street! Is none without?
How the poplar swings about!

And that hour beneath the beech
 When I listened in a dream
And he said in his deep speech
 That he owed me all esteem
Each word swam in on my brain
With a dim, dilating pain
Till it burst with that last strain

I fell flooded with a dark
 In the silence of a swoon
When I rose, still cold and stark
 There was night I saw the moon
And the stars, each in it's place
And the May-blooms on the grass
Seemed to wonder what I was

And I walked as if apart
 From myself, when I could stand
And I pitied my own heart
 As if I held it in my hand
Somewhat coldly, with a sense
Of fulfilled benevolence
And a "Poor thing" negligence

And I answered coldly too
 When you met me at the door
And I only heard the dew
 Dripping from me to the floor:
And the flowers, I bade you see
Were too withered for the bee
As my life, henceforth, for me

Do not weep so Dear, heart-warm!
 All was best as it befell
If I say he did me harm
 I speak wild, I am not well
All his words were kind and good
He esteemed me only, blood
Runs so faint in womanhood!

Then I always was too grave
 Liked the saddest ballad sung
With that look, besides, we have
 In our faces, who die young
I had died, Dear, all the same
Life's long, joyous, jostling game
Is too loud for my meek shame

We are so unlike each other
 Thou and I, that none could guess
We were children of one mother
 But for mutual tenderness
Thou art rose-lined from the cold
And meant verily to hold
Life's pure pleasures manifold

I am pale as crocus grows
 Close beside a rose-tree's root
Whosoe'er would reach the rose
 Treads the crocus underfoot
I, like May-bloom on thorn-tree
Thou, like merry summer-bee
Fit that I be plucked for thee!

Yet who plucks me? no one mourns
 I have lived my season out
And now die of my own thorns
 Which I could not live without
Sweet, be merry! How the light
Comes and goes! If it be night
Keep the candles in my sight

Are there footsteps at the door?
 Look out quickly yea, or nay?
Some one might be waiting for
 Some last word that I might say
Nay? So best! so angels would
Stand off clear from deathly road
Not to cross the sight of God

Colder grow my hands and feet
 When I wear the shroud I made
Let the folds lie straight and neat
 And the rosemary be spread
That if any friend should come
(To see thee, Sweet) all the room
May be lifted out of gloom

And, dear Bertha, let me keep
 On my hand this little ring
Which at nights, when others sleep
 I can still see glittering!
Let me wear it out of sight
In the grave, where it will light
All the dark up, day and night

On that grave drop not a tear!
 Else, though fathom deep the place
Through the woollen shroud I wear
 I shall feel it on my face
Rather smile there, blessèd one
Thinking of me in the sun
Or forget me smiling on!

Art thou near me? nearer! so
 Kiss me close upon the eyes
That the earthly light may go
 Sweetly, as it used to rise
When I watched the morning-grey
Strike, betwixt the hills, the way
He was sure to come that day

So, no more vain words be said!
 The hosannas nearer roll
Mother, smile now on thy Dead
 I am death-strong in my soul
Mystic Dove alit on cross
Guide the poor bird of the snows
Through the snow-wind above loss!

Jesus, Victim, comprehending
 Love's divine self-abnegation
Cleanse my love in it's self-spending
 And absorb the poor libation!
Wind my thread of life up higher
Up, through angels' hands of fire!
I aspire while I expire