XI <br /> <br />And therefore if to love can be desert, <br />I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale <br />As these you see, and trembling knees that fail <br />To bear the burden of a heavy heart,— <br />This weary minstrel-life that once was girt <br />To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail <br />To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale <br />A melancholy music,—why advert <br />To these things? O Beloved, it is plain <br />I am not of thy worth nor for thy place! <br />And yet, because I love thee, I obtain <br />From that same love this vindicating grace, <br />To live on still in love, and yet in vain,— <br />To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-11-and-therefore-if-to-love-can-be-desert/
