POEMS OF 1844: SONNETS


INSUFFICIENCY

When I attain to utter forth in verse
Some inward thought, my soul throbs audibly
Along my pulses, yearning to be free
And something farther, fuller, higher, rehearse
To the individual, true, and the universe,
In consummation of right harmony:
But, like a wind-exposed distorted tree,
We are blown against for ever by the curse
Which breathes through Nature. Oh, the world is weak !
The effluence of each is false to all,
And what we best conceive we fail to speak.
Wait, soul, until thine ashen garments fall,
And then resume thy broken strains, and seek
Fit peroration without let or thrall.


These poems are selections from the 1844 work originally entitled
_Poems. By Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, Author of The Seraphim, etc. In two
volumes_. They were prepared for electronic distribution by the inforM
staff. Questions or comments should be directed to inform-editor@umail.umd.edu.