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Sonnets from the Portuguese
I I thought once how Theocritus had sung II But only three in all God's universe III Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart! IV Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor V I lift my heavy heart up solemnly VI Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand VII The face of all the world is changed, I think VIII What can I give thee back, O liberal IX Can it be right to give what I can give? X Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed XI And therefore if to love can be desert XII Indeed this very love which is my boast XIII And wilt thou have me fashion into speech XIV If thou must love me, let it be for nought XV Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear XVI And yet, because thou overcomest so XVII My poet thou canst touch on all the notes XVIII I never gave a lock of hair away XIX The soul's Rialto hath its merchandize XX Beloved, my beloved, when I think XXI Say over again, and yet once over again XXII When our two souls stand up erect and strong XXIII Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead XXIV Let the world's sharpness like a clasping knife XXV A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne XXVI I lived with visions for my company XXVII My own Beloved, who hast lifted me XXVIII My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! XXIX I think of thee!--my thoughts do twine and bud XXX I see thine image through my tears to-night XXXI Thou comest! all is said without a word XXXII The first time that the sun rose on thine oath XXXIII Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear XXXIV With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee XXXV If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange XXXVI When we met first and loved, I did not build XXXVII Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make XXXVIII First time he kissed me, he but only kissed XXXIX Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace XL Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours! XLI I thank all who have loved me in their hearts XLII My future will not copy fair my past XLIII How do I love thee? Let me count the ways XLIV Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
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