[Book 1]

        I am like,

        tell me, my dear father. Broader brows

        , upon a slenderer undergrowth

        Of delicate features, -- paler, near as grave ;

        But the whole,

        And makes it better sometimes tself.

        So, nine full years, our days were h God

        Among ains : I    teen,

        Still gros from unseen roots

        In toied Springs, -- and suddenly awoke

        to full life and life s needs and agonies,

        iterong, struggling    beside

        A stone-dead fatruck sh,

        Makes awful lig word was, `Love --

        `Love, my ch grief)

        `Love, my child. Ere I answered he was gone,

        And o love in all the world.

        t succeeded

        I recollect as, after fevers, men

        the passage of delirium,

        Missing turn still, baffled by the door ;

        Smootives ;

        A he flank

        it it s and end itself

        Like some tormented scorpion. t last

        I do remember clearly, here came

        A stranger y, nht,

        (I t not) w me up

        From old Assuntas neck ; h a shriek,

        S me go, -- woo full

        Of my fato shriek back a word,

        In all a is at grief

        Stared at tood and moaned,

        My poor Assunta, wood and moaned !

        te aly,

        Draeamer-deck,

        Like one in anger drawing back s

        s catc. tter sea

        Inexorably push,

        And sh my despair

        t as a pasture to tars.

        ten nighe deep ;

        ten nig the on face

        Of any day he moon and sun

        Cut off from th,

        to starve into a blind ferocity

        And glare unnatural ; the very sky

        (Dropping its bell- dohe sea

        As if no    should scape alive,)

        Bedraggled ing salt,

        Until it seemed no more t holy heaven

        te

        turranger, for a child.

        ty cliffs

        Looked cold upon me. Could I find a home

        Among the fog ?

        And w

        From alien lips which had no kiss for mine

        I    aloud, t, t,

        And some one near me said the child was mad

        train s us on.

        as t isle ?

        t up from the fellowship

        Of verdure, field from field, as man from man ;

        tive,

        As almost you could touch a hand,

        And dared to do it they were so far off

        From Gods celestial crystals ; all things blurred

        And dull and vague. Did Ses

        Absorb t    a one

        it to strike a radiant colour up

        Or active outline on t air.

        I ter stand

        Upon tep of ry-house

        to give me raight and calm,

        narro

        As if for taming actal ts

        From possible pulses ; brown h grey

        By frigid use of life, (s old

        Althers elder by a year)

        A nose drae lines ;

        A ild mouttle soured about

        ted loves

        Or peradventure niggardly ruths ;

        Eyes of no colour, -- o have smiled,

        But never, hemselves

        In smiling ; c a rose

        Of perished summers, like a rose in a book,

        Kept more for rut bloom,

        Past fading also.

        She had lived, well say,

        A uous life,

        A quiet life,    all,

        (But t, s lived enougo know)

        Betry squires,

        tenant looking doimes

        From to assure their souls

        Against che abyss

        thecary, looked on once a year

        to prove ty.

        tian gifts

        Of knitting stogs, stitcticoats,

        Because we are of one fleser all

        And need one flannel (h a proper sense

        Of differen ty) -- and still

        trick

        Of sions from the crease,

        Preserved ellectual. She had lived

        A sort of cage-bird life, born in a cage,

        Ating t to leap from perco perch

        as ad joy enough for any bird.

        Dear    live

        In ts, a berries !

        I, alas,

        A wild bird scarcely fledged, was brouge,

        And so meet me. Very kind.

        Bring ter, give out the fresh seed.

        Sood upoo wele,

        Calm, in black garb. I g about her neck, --

        Young babes, wc every shred of wool

        to dra closer, catd g

        Less blindly. In my ears, my fathers word

        ly, as the sea in shells,

        `Love, love, my ch my grief,

        Miger once,

        I g to , she seemed moved,

        Kissed me o g,

        And dreo

        te in.

        trange spasm

        Of pain and passion, she wrung loose my hands

        Imperiously, and    arms length,

        And eel naked-bladed eyes

        Searcabbed it through,

        to find

        A    face,

        If not h,

        Sruggled for her ordinary calm

        And missed it ratold me not to shrink,

        As if sold me not to lie or swear, --

        `Soo

        As long as I deserved it. Very kind.

        [Book 5]

        AURORA LEIGh, be humble. Shall I hope

        to speak my poems in mysterious tune

        iture ? -- he lava-lymph

        t trickles from successive galaxies

        Still drop by drop adohe finger of God

        In still nehis ?

        t scarce dare breatiful ?--

        itrouble in the ground,

        tormented by ts,

        And softly pricked by golden crocus-sheaves

        In token of t-time of flowers ?--

        iters and umns, -- and beyond,

        its large seasons, w hopes

        And fears, joys, grieves, and loves ? --    strain

        Of sexual passion, whe flesh

        In a sacrament of souls ? s

        ures here,

        throb luminous and harmonious like pure spheres ? --

        ititudinous life, and finally

        it esgs of ecstatic souls,

        oo long prisoned flame,

        t faces upward, burn away

        the body, issuing on a world,

        Beyond our mortal ? --    I speak my verse

        Sp plainly in tuo t,

        t men s catche quick,

        As    over them

        to hey will or no,

        Alike imperious as thm

        Of t ture ? I must fail,

        to hold and move

        One man, -- and he my cousin, and he my friend,

        And ender, made intelligent,

        Ined to poous sides

        Of difficult questions ; yet, obtuse to me,

        Of me, incurious ! likes me very well,

        And wishes me a paradise of good,

        Good looks, good means, and good digestion, -- ay,

        But ots me off

        itoleraleness, --

        too light a book frave mans reading ! Go,

        Aurora Leigh : be humble.

        t is,

        e oo apt to look to One,

        ain impoten art.

        e strain our natures at doing somet,

        Far less because it s somet to do,

        t we, so, end ourselves

        As being not small, and more appreciable

        to some one friend. e must ors

        Bet our    sd the judge ;

        Some s saints blood must qui in our palms

        Or all the life in heaven seems slow and cold :

        Good only being perceived as the end of good,

        And God alone pleased, -- ts too poor, hink,

        And not enough for us by any means.

        Ay, Romney, I remember, told me once

        e miss tract when we prehend.

        e miss it most when ire, -- and fail.

        Yet, so, I . -- this vile womans way

        Of trailing garments, s trip me up :

        I ll raffic

        In arts pure temple. Must I work in vain,

        it tion of a man ?

        It ot be ; it s. Fame itself,

        t approbation of the general race,

        Presents a poor end, (the arrow speed,

        S straigo te,)

        And t fame was never reac

        By . Art for art,

        And good fod ial Good !

        e ll keep our aims sublime, our eyes erect,

        Although our woman-hands should shake and fail ;

        And if    must we ? --

        Shall I fail ?

        tragic phrase,

        `Let no one be called ill h.

        to ill h

        Be called un the work

        Until t and the labour done,

        t,

        st ; affepromise ;

        And, in t    least,

        Deal hough we be.

        And rut h praise.
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