Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese" was 
originally published in 1850 in a two volume  publication entitled
_Poems_.  This work was prepared for electronic distribution by the 
inforM staff.  Questions or comments should be directed to 
inform-editor@umail.umd.edu.


Sonnets from the Portuguese

          XXVIII

My letters ! all dead paper, mute and white !
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
This said,--he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand . . . a simple thing,
Yet I wept for it !--this, . . . the paper's light . . .
Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God's future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine--and so its ink has paled
With Iying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this . . . O Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last !