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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383874" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet XI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383874" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And therefore if to love can be desert,<br>I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale<br>As these you see, and trembling knees that fail<br>To bear the burden of a heavy heart,--<br>This weary minstrel-life that once was girt<br>To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail<br>To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale<br>A melancholy music,--why advert<br>To these things ? O Beloved, it is plain<br>I am not of thy worth nor for thy place !<br>And yet, because I love thee, I obtain<br>From that same love this vindicating grace,<br>To live on still in love, and yet in vain,--<br>To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.</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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