GO from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand <br /> Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore <br /> Alone upon the threshold of my door <br />Of individual life I shall command <br />The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand <br /> Serenely in the sunshine as before, <br /> Without the sense of that which I forbore-- <br />Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land <br />Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine <br /> With pulses that beat double. What I do <br />And what I dream include thee, as the wine <br /> Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue <br />God for myself, He hears that name of thine, <br /> And sees within my eyes the tears of two.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-from-the-portuguese-iii/
