Elizabeth Barrett Browning — Insufficiency

I. There is no one beside thee and no one above thee,        &nbspThou standest alone as the nightingale sings!        &nbspAnd my words that would praise thee are impotent things, For none can express thee though all should approve thee.        &nbspI love thee so, Dear, that I only can love thee. II. Say, what can I do for thee? weary thee, grieve thee?        &nbspLean on thy shoulder, new burdens to add?        &nbspWeep my tears over thee, making thee sad? Oh, hold me not—love me not! let me retrieve thee.        &nbspI love thee so, Dear, that I only can leave thee.