Elizabeth Barrett Browning


All are not taken; there are left behind	 
  Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring	 
  And make the daylight still a happy thing,	 
And tender voices, to make soft the wind:	 
But if it were not so—if I could find	         
  No love in all the world for comforting,	 
  Nor any path but hollowly did ring	 
Where 'dust to dust' the love from life disjoin'd;	 
And if, before those sepulchres unmoving	 
  I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb	  
Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)	 
Crying 'Where are ye, O my loved and loving?'—	 
  I know a voice would sound, 'Daughter, I AM.	 
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?'

spoken = Genevieve Perdue