Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/76

Rh ‘You,’ she cried, ‘Have got a fever. What, I talk and talk An hour long to you,—I instruct you how You cannot eat or drink or stand or sit Or even die, like any decent wretch In all this unroofed and unfurnished world, Without your cousin,—and you still maintain There’s room ’twixt him and you, for flirting fans And running knots in eyebrows! You must have A pattern lover sighing on his knee: You do not count enough a noble heart, Above book-patterns, which this very morn Unclosed itself, in two dear fathers’ names, To embrace your orphaned life! fie, fie! But stay I write a word, and counteract this sin.’

She would have turned to leave me, but I clung. ‘O sweet my father’s sister, hear my word Before you write yours. Cousin Vane did well, And Romney well,—and I well too, In casting back with all my strength and will The good they meant me. O my God, my God! God meant me good, too, when he hindered me From saying‘yes’ this morning. If you write A word, it shall be ‘no.’ I say no, no! I tie up ‘no’ upon His altar-horns Quite out of reach of perjury! At least My soul is not a pauper; I can live At least my soul’s life, without alms from men, And if it must be in heaven instead of earth,