Thou comest ! All is said without a word .
I sit beneath thy looks , as children do
In the noon - sun , with souls that tremble
Through their happy eyelids fron an unaverred
Yet prodigal inward joy . Behold , I erred
In that last doubt ! And yet I cannot rue
The sin most , but the occasion ... that
We two should for a moment stand unministered
By a mutual presence . Ah , keep near and close ,
Thou dovelike help ! And , when my fears should
Rise , with thy broad heart serenely interpose .
Brood down with thy divine sufficiences these
Thoughts which tremble when bereft of those ,
Like callow birds left desert to the skies .

" Sonnets From The Portuguese XXXI "
--- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
( 1806 - 1861 )