Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Portuguese IV lyrics
[Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Portuguese IV lyrics]
Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor
Most gracious singer of high poems! where
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more
And dost thou lift this
House's latch too poor
For hand of thine? and canst
Thou think and bear
To let thy music drop here unaware
In folds of golden fulness at my door?
Look up and see the casement broken in
The bats and owlets builders in the roof!
My cricket chirps against thy mandolin
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of desolation! there's a voice within
That weeps as thou must sing alone, aloof
Most gracious singer of high poems! where
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more
And dost thou lift this
House's latch too poor
For hand of thine? and canst
Thou think and bear
To let thy music drop here unaware
In folds of golden fulness at my door?
Look up and see the casement broken in
The bats and owlets builders in the roof!
My cricket chirps against thy mandolin
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of desolation! there's a voice within
That weeps as thou must sing alone, aloof