Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861)

THREE gifts the dying left me: Æschylus,

And Gregory Nazianzen, and a clock

Chiming the gradual hours out like a flock

Of stars, whose motion is melodious.

The books were those I used to read from, thus

Assisting my dear teacher’s soul to unlock

The darkness of his eyes; now, mine they mock,

Blinded in turn, by tears: now, murmurous

Sad echoes of my young voice, years agone,

Intoning, from these leaves, the Grecian phrase,

Return and choke my utterance. Books, lie down

In silence on the shelf within my gaze!

And thou, clock, striking the hour’s pulses on,

Chime in the day which ends these parting days!