Is it indeed so ? If I lay here dead ,
Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine ?
And would the sun for thee more coldly shine ,
Because of grave - damps falling round my head ?
I marvelled , my Beloved , when I read
Thy thought so in the letter , I am thine --
But ... so much to thee ?
Can I pour thy wine while my hands tremble ?
Then my soul , instead of dreams of death ,
Resumes life's lower range , then love me ,
Love ! Look on me ... breathe on me !
As brighter ladies do not count it strange ,
For love , to give up acres and degree ,
I yield the grave for thy sake , and
Exchange my near sweet view of
Heaven , for earth with thee !

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