Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Portuguese XXIII lyrics

Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead, Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine? And would the sun for thee more coldly shine Because of grave-damps falling round my head? I marvelled, my Belovèd, when I read Thy thought so in the letter. I am thine-- But . . . so much to thee? Can I pour thy wine While my hands tremble? Then my soul, instead Of dreams of d**h, resumes life's lower range. Then, love me, Love! Look on me--breathe on me! As brighter ladies do not count it strange, For love, to give up acres and degree, I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee!