SONNETS FROM THE
PORTUGUESE

I

I thought once how Theocritus had sung

II

But only three in all God’s universe

III

Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!

IV

Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor

V

I lift my heavy heart up solemnly

VI

Go from me.  Yet I feel that I shall stand

VII

The face of all the world is changed, I think

VIII

What can I give thee back, O liberal

IX

Can it be right to give what I can give?

X

Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed

XI

And therefore if to love can be desert

XII

Indeed this very love which is my boast

XIII

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech

XIV

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

XV

Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear

XVI

And yet, because thou overcomest so

XVII

My poet thou canst touch on all the notes

XVIII

I never gave a lock of hair away

XIX

The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandize

XX

Beloved, my beloved, when I think

XXI

Say over again, and yet once over again

XXII

When our two souls stand up erect and strong

XXIII

Is it indeed so?  If I lay here dead

XXIV

Let the world’s sharpness like a clasping knife

XXV

A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne

XXVI

I lived with visions for my company

XXVII

My own Beloved, who hast lifted me

XXVIII

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!

XXIX

I think of thee!—my thoughts do twine and bud

XXX

I see thine image through my tears to-night

XXXI

Thou comest! all is said without a word

XXXII

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

XXXIII

Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear

XXXIV

With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee