Sonnet 20

BELOVED, my BELOVED, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sat alone here in the snow
And saw no foot print, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice, but, link by link,
Went counting all my chains as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand. – why, thus I drink
Of life's great cup of wonder! Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech, – nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing! Atheists are dull, as
Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight.

– text transcribed from Phoebe Anna Traquair's manuscript.

Folio 21 from Phoebe Anna Traquair's illuminated copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's 'Sonnets from the Portuguese', 1892-1897
Library reference: MS.8127, f.21
Date: 1892