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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383870" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet VIII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383870" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What can I give thee back, O liberal<br>And princely giver, who hast brought the gold<br>And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,<br>And laid them on the outside of the-wall<br>For such as I to take or leave withal,<br>In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,<br>Ungrateful, that for these most manifold<br>High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?<br>Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.<br>Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run<br>The colors from my life, and left so dead<br>And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done<br>To give the same as pillow to thy head.<br>Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Barrett+Browning">Elizabeth Barrett Browning</a></strong></div>

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