Elizabeth Barrett Browning — To Bettine the Child-Friend of Goethe

I.        &nbspBettine, friend of Goethe, Hadst thou the second sight— Upturning worship and delight        &nbspWith such a loving duty To his grand face, as women will, The childhood 'neath thine eyelids still? II.        &nbsp—Before his shrine to doom thee, Using the same child's smile That heaven and earth, beheld erewhile        &nbspFor the first time, won from thee Ere star and flower grew dim and dead Save at his feet and o'er his head? III.        &nbsp—Digging thine heart and throwing Away its childhood's gold, That so its woman-depth might hold        &nbspHis spirit's overflowing? (For surging souls, no worlds can bound, Their channel in the heart have found.) IV.        &nbspO child, to change appointed, Thou hadst not second sight! What eyes the future view aright        &nbspUnless by tears anointed? Yea, only tears themselves can show The burning ones that have to flow. V.        &nbspO woman, deeply loving, Thou hadst not second sight! The star is very high and bright,        &nbspAnd none can see it moving. Love looks around, below, above, Yet all his prophecy is—love. VI.        &nbspThe bird thy childhood's playing Sent onward o'er the sea, Thy dove of hope came back to thee        &nbspWithout a leaf: art laying Its wet cold wing no sun can dry, Still in thy bosom secretly? VII.        &nbspOur Goethe's friend, Bettine, I have the second sight! The stone upon his grave is white,        &nbspThe funeral stone between ye; And in thy mirror thou hast viewed Some change as hardly understood. VIII.        &nbspWhere's childhood? where is Goethe? The tears are in thine eyes. Nay, thou shalt yet reorganize        &nbspThy maidenhood of beauty In his own glory, which is smooth Of wrinkles and sublime in youth. IX.        &nbspThe poet's arms have wound thee, He breathes upon thy brow, He lifts thee upward in the glow        &nbspOf his great genius round thee,— The childlike poet undefiled Preserving evermore The Child.