The poem
XIII
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech The love I bear thee, finding words enough, And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, Between our faces, to cast light on each?— I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach My hand to hold my spirit so far off From myself—me—that I should bring thee proof In words, of love hid in me out of reach. Nay, let the silence of my womanhood Commend my woman-love to thy belief,— Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, And rend the garment of my life, in brief, By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude, Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief
"and wilt thou have me fashion into speech"...
This is one of my *favorite* of E.B.B's poems. All of her works in 'Sonnets from the Protuguese' have that wonderful obviousness in them-- that simple and direct expression of the feelings she had at the time.
It's an easy concept to relate to-that fear of expression an emotion, lest one is hurt by that expression. I find the line "I drop it at thy feet" signifigant. As if she suggests that, although she cannot put her feelings into words for Robert to hear, she cannot help but to give them to him anyway...
The last four lines, I find slightly troubleing... any thoughts, anyone, on their meaning?