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Sonnet XXXV
por
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me ? Shall I never miss Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and floors, another home than this ? Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change ? That ‘s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove; For grief indeed is love and grief beside Alas, I have grieved sol am hard to love Yet love me–wilt thou ? Open thine heart wide And fold within the wet wings of thy dove
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