My Letters! all dead paper. . . (Sonnet XXVIII)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1806 (Kelloe) – 1861 (Florence)



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 tonight.
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,
Yes 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 lying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this . . . 0 Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

38 sec read
89

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABBAABBAACDCDC
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 637
Words 125
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 14

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was one of the most prominent English poets of the Victorian era. more…

All Elizabeth Barrett Browning poems | Elizabeth Barrett Browning Books

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