Go from me . Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow , nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life , I shall command
The uses of my soul , nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before ,
Without the sense of that which i forbore , ..
Thy touch upon the palm , the widest land
Doom takes to part us , leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double , what I do
And what I dream include thee , as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes .
And when I sue God for myself ,
He hears that name of thine , and sees
Within my eyes the tears of two .

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