XXVII <br /> <br />My own Beloved, who hast lifted me <br />From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, <br />And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown <br />A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully <br />Shines out again, as all the angels see, <br />Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own, <br />Who camest to me when the world was gone, <br />And I who looked for only God, found thee! <br />I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad. <br />As one who stands in dewless asphodel <br />Looks backward on the tedious time he had <br />In the upper life,—so I, with bosom-swell, <br />Make witness, here, between the good and bad, <br />That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-27-my-own-beloved-who-hast-lifted-me/
