That spring night I spent
Pillowed on your arm
Never really happened
Except in a dream.
Unfortunately I am
Talked about anyway.
The sea rocks have a green moss
The pine needles have red berries
I have memories of you
Speak to me of how you miss me
Tell me the hours go long and slow
Speak to me of the drag on your heart
The iron drag of the long days
I know hours empty as a beggars
tin cup on a rainy day
Empty as a soldiers sleeve
with an arm lost.
Speak to me
Guilt is gone
And with it all the words
Spoken in apology
It took so long to go
And left so easily
Just up and moved on.
The years of childhood
Condense into a moment
And the pain dies
As other pain at other memories
The ache is lessened
And under the lightened load I
lift my head higher.
Fear is beginning to slide now
Loosing its grip grasping with
Soon to take them as they fall
All the words spoken in fear
The first time that the sun rose on thine
oath to love me, I looked forward to the moon
to slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
and quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick loving hearts, I thought, may quickly
loathe; and looking on myself, I seemed not one for
such a mans love! More like an out of tune, worn
viol a good singer would be wroth to spoil his song
with, and which, snatched in haste is laid down at the
first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong my self so, but I placed a
wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float 'neath
masters hands, from instruments defaced ___ And
great souls, at one stroke may do and doat.
Sonnets from the Portuguese
Elizabeth Barrett Browning