by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 - 1861)

Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Language: English 
Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art
A guest for queens to social pageantries,
With gages from a hundred brighter eyes
Than tears [even]1 can make mine, to ply thy part
Of chief musician. What hast thou to do
With looking from the lattice-lights at me,
A poor, tired, wandering singer, … singing through
The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree?
The chrism is on thine head, — on mine, the dew, —
And Death must dig the level where these agree.

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Confirmed with A Book of Women’s Verse, ed. by J. C. Squire. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921;, 2011.

1 Morawetz: "ever"


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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 110