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Sonnets from the Portuguese

Sonnet Number First Line of the Sonnet


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 merchandise;
XX   Belovèd, my Belovèd, 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, Belovèd, have I borne
XXVI   I lived with visions for my company
XXVII   My dear Belovèd, 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
XLIX   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 Belovèd, thou hast brought me many flowers