RECEIVE thine own; for I and it are thine. Thou know'st its story; how for forty days— Weary with sickness and with social haze, (After thy hands and lips with love divine Had somewhat soothed me, made the glory shine, Though with a watery lustre,) more delays Of blessedness forbid—I took my ways Into a solitude, Invention's mine; There thought and wrote, afar, and yet with thee. Those days gone past, I came, and brought a book; My child, developed since in limb and look. It came in shining vapours from the sea, And in thy stead sung low sweet songs to me, When the red life-blood labour would not brook. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. BURKE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AN ODE TO HIMSELF by BEN JONSON THE SEARCH (1) by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL L'AMOUR DU MENSONGE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 30 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |