Two souls stand face to face, so still and close that their outspread wings ignite at the tips. In that hushed nearness, the speaker can’t imagine any earthly hurt worth leaving for. She even resists the pull of heaven: angels, she suspects, would press in and try to drop a perfect song into their deep silence, breaking it. Instead, she chooses the imperfect earth, where the contrary moods of others shrink back and leave pure spirits alone. That isolation isn’t loneliness—it’s a sanctuary, a place to stand and love fully, if only for a day, with darkness and the death-hour rounding it. The mood is reverent and bittersweet, charged with a fierce, protective tenderness. The lovers carve out a fragile haven, preferring this fleeting human closeness to any eternal but intrusive perfection.
Sonnet 22 - When our two souls stand up erect and strong — Summary
When our two souls stand up erect and strong, Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, Until the lengthening wings break into fire At either curved point,—what bitter wrong Can the earth do to us, that we should not long Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher, The angels would press on us and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay Rather on earth, Beloved,—where the unfit Contrarious moods of men recoil away And isolate pure spirits, and permit A place to stand and love in for a day, With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.