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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383878" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet XIII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383878" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And wilt thou have me fashion into speech<br>The love I bear thee, finding words enough,<br>And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,<br>Between our faces, to cast light on each ?--<br>I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach<br>My hand to hold my spirit so far off<br>From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof<br>In words, of love hid in me out of reach.<br>Nay, let the silence of my womanhood<br>Commend my woman-love to thy belief,--<br>Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed,<br>And rend the garment of my life, in brief,<br>By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,<br>Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief</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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