UNLIKE are we, unlike, O princely Heart! <br /> Unlike our uses and our destinies. <br /> Our ministering two angels look surprise <br />On one another, as they strike athwart <br />Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art <br /> A guest for queens to social pageantries, <br /> With gages from a hundred brighter eyes <br />Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part <br />Of chief musician. What hast thou to do <br /> With looking from the lattice-lights at me-- <br />A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through <br /> The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree? <br />The chrism is on thine head--on mine the dew-- <br /> And Death must dig the level where these agree.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-from-the-portuguese-ii/
