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A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

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II

PARTING AT MORNING

ROUND the cape of a sudden came the sea,
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.

1845.

Robert Browning.

MISCONCEPTIONS

THIS is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,

Fit for her nest and her treasure.

Oh, what a hope beyond measure

Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung

to,

So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!

This is a heart the Queen leant on,

Thrilled in a minute erratic,

Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love's regal dalmatic.

Oh, what a fancy ecstatic

Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on→ Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on! 14 Robert Browning.

1855.

A DEAD ROSE

O ROSE, who dares to name thee?

No longer roseate now, nor soft nor sweet, But pale and hard and dry as stubble wheat,Kept seven years in a drawer, thy title shames

thee.

The breeze that used to blow thee

Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away An odour up the lane to last all day,If breathing now, unsweetened would forego' thee.

The sun that used to smite thee,

And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn Till beam appeared to bloom, and flower to burn,

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If shining now, with not a hue would light thee. 12

The dew that used to wet thee,

And, white first, grow incarnadined because It lay upon thee where the crimson was,If dropping now, would darken where it met

thee.

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The fly that lit upon thee

To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet Along thy leaf's pure edges after heat,If 'lighting now, would coldly overrun thee.

The bee that once did suck thee,

And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive, And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,If passing now, would blindly overlook thee.

The heart doth recognize thee,

Alone, alone! the heart doth smell thee sweet, Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most

complete,

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Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee. 28

Yes, and the heart doth owe thee

More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold:Lie still upon this heart which breaks below thee!

1846.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

A MAN'S REQUIREMENTS

LOVE me, Sweet, with all thou art,

Feeling, thinking, seeing;

Love me in the lightest part,

Love me in full being.

Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.

Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest granting;
Taking colour from the skies,

Can Heaven's truth be wanting?

Love me with their lids, that fall

Snowlike at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.

Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely-open-minded:

Love me with thy loitering foot,—

Hearing one behind it.

Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;

Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur Love me!

Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;

Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living-dying.

Love me in thy gorgeous airs,

When the world has crowned thee;

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ર૪

Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,

With the angels round thee.

Love me pure, as musers do,

Up the woodlands shady:

Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.

Through all hopes that keep us brave,

Further off or nigher,

Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.

Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman's love no fable,

I will love thee-half a year-
As a man is able.

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1846.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

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