The Poetry Corner

The Lost Mistress

By Robert Browning

I. Alls over, then: does truth sound bitter As one at first believes? Hark, tis the sparrows good-night twitter About your cottage eaves! II. And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly, I noticed that, to-day; One day more bursts them open fully You know the red turns grey. III. To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? May I take your hand in mine? Mere friends are we, well, friends the merest Keep much that I resign: IV. For each glance of the eye so bright and black, Though I keep with hearts endeavour, Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back, Though it stay in my soul for ever! V. Yet I will but say what mere friends say, Or only a thought stronger; I will hold your hand but as long as all may, Or so very little longer!