And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

And I breathe large at home. I drop my cloak,
Unclasp my girdle, loose the band that ties
My hair...now could I but unloose my soul!
We are sepulchred alive in this close world,
And want more room.

The spring of 1838 was marked by two events of interest to Miss Barrett and her family. In the first place, Mr. Barrett’s apparently interminable search for a house ended in his selection of 50 Wimpole Street, which continued to be his home for the rest of his life, and which is, consequently, more than any other house in London, to be associated with his daughter’s memory. The second event was the publication of ‘The Seraphim, and other Poems,’ which was Miss Barrett’s first serious appearance before the public, and in her own name, as a poet. The early letters of this year refer to the preparation of this volume, as well as to the authoress’s health, which was at this time in a very serious condition, owing to the breaking of a blood-vessel. Indeed, from this time until her marriage in 1846 she held her life on the frailest of tenures, and lived in all respects the life of an invalid.