Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/816

 'Tis the bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the River Lee.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

1806-1861

678. Rosalind's Scroll

I left thee last, a child at heart, A woman scarce in years: I come to thee, a solemn corpse Which neither feels nor fears. I have no breath to use in sighs; They laid the dead-weights on mine eyes To seal them safe from tears.

Look on me with thine own calm look: I meet it calm as thou. No look of thine can change this smile, Or break thy sinful vow: I tell thee that my poor scorn'd heart Is of thine earth—thine earth—a part: It cannot vex thee now.

I have pray'd for thee with bursting sob When passion's course was free; I have pray'd for thee with silent lips In the anguish none could see; They whisper'd oft, 'She sleepeth soft'— But I only pray'd for thee.