Sonnets from the Portuguese — Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

VI

Go from me.

Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow.

Nevermore Alone upon the threshold of my door Of individual life, I shall command The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore— Thy touch upon the palm.

The widest land Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine With pulses that beat double.

What I do And what I dream include thee, as the wine Must taste of its own grapes.

And when I sue God for myself, He hears that name of thine, And sees within my eyes the tears of two.