Say over again, and yet once over again, 
That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated 
Should seem "a cuckoo-song,"as thou dost treat it, 
Remember, never to the hill or plain, 
Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain 
Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed. 
Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted 
By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain 
Cry, Speak once more-thou lovest! Who can fear 
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll, 
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? 
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll 
The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear, 
To love me also in silence with thy soul.
Sonnet XXI: Say Over Again
written byElizabeth Barrett Browning
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning


 



