Page 73 - pesta2025suppl3

Side 73 -pest-POSTEN

XLIII: sonnet from «The Portuguese»
(Elizabeth B. Browning)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,
I love thee to the depht and breadth and height,
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight,
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace,
I love thee to the level of every day’s,
Most quiet need, by sun and candelight,
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right,
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise,
I love thee with the passion put to use,
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith,
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose,
With my lost saints - I love thee with the breath, Illustrasjoner: Shutterstock
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Sabbath Morning at Sea
(Elizabeth B. Browning - inngår som sang
nummer 3 i «Sea Pictures» av E. Elgar) Prospice
(Robert Browning)
The ship went on with solemn face:
to meet the darkness on the deep, Fear death?- to feel the fog in my troat,
the solemn ship went onward. The mist in my face,
I bowed down weary in the place; When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
for parting tears and present sleep I am nearing the place,
had weighed mine eyelids downward. The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The new sight , the new wondrous sight! The post of the foe;
The waters around me, turbulent, Where he stands , the Arch Fear in a visible form,
The skies , impassive o’er me, Yet the strong man must go:
calm in a moonless, sunless light, For the journey is done and the summit attained,
as glorified by even the intent And the barriers fall,
of holding the day glory! Though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
Love me, sweet friends, this sabbath day. The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so – one fight more,
The sea sings round me while ye roll The best and the last!
after the hymn, unaltered, I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and
and kneel, where once I knelt to pray,
and bless me deeper in your soul forbore,
because your voice has faltered. And bade me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
And though this sabbath comes to me The heroes of old,
without the stolèd minister, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears
and the chanting congregation, Of pain, darkness and cold.
God’s Spirit shall give comfort. He For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
who brooded soft on waters drear, The black minute’s at end,
Creator on creation. And the elements’ rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
He shall assist me to look higher, Shall dwindle, shall blend,
Where keep the saints, with harp and song, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
an endless sabbath morning, Then a light, then thy breast,
and, on that sea commixed with fire, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
oft drop their eyelids raised too long And with God be the rest!
to the full Godshead’ s burning.