What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver—who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse? Am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all?
Not so; not cold—but very poor instead!
Ask God who knows! For frequent tears have run
The colours from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther! let it serve to trample on.
Public-domain source text
VIII
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
From Standard Ebooks · standardebooks/elizabeth-barrett-browning_sonnets-from-the-portuguese
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