Shadow Haven

Porphyria's Lover

by Robert Browning

 

The rain set early in tonight,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spit,

And did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneels and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let her hair fall

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put her arm around her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me-she

Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vanier ties dissever,

And give herself to me forever,

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain:

So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshiped me: suprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she wa smine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one yellow string I wound

Three times around her throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily opened her lids again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the trees

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss;

I propped her head up as before,

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its most utmost will

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria's love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish could be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!

 

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