from the Portuguese {1} : I learn to trust


...I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,

The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,

Those of my own life, who by turns had flung

A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move

Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,-

"Guess now who holds thee?" - "Death," I said. But, there,

The silver answer rang, - "Not Death, but Love."

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning