Beloved, my Beloved, when I think <br />That thou wast in the world a year ago, <br />What time I sat alone here in the snow <br />And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink <br />No moment at thy voice, but, link by link, <br />Went counting all my chains as if that so <br />They never could fall off at any blow <br />Struck by thy possible hand,--why, thus I drink <br />Of life's great cup of wonder ! Wonderful, <br />Never to feel thee thrill the day or night <br />With personal act or speech,--nor ever cull <br />Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white <br />Thou sawest growing ! Atheists are as dull, <br />Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xx-3/
