The next to last line, "Till child and maiden pressed to thine embrace," recalls the lines from two of EBB's 1844 grieving sonnets "Grief" and "Irreparableness
": "Till itself crumble to the dust beneath" and "Till myself shall die" (my italics), which I discuss at greater length in Little Songs (Complete Works, 2:230, 229).
The argument applies well to "Grief," and perhaps also to "Irreparableness
"--which Billone reads, less convincingly, as a "counter-part" to Wordsworth's "September, 1815." However, her broader claim that in EBB's "1844 sonnets, there is no turn outward and upward, no nature at all, no mind, no divine," only the "folding and re-folding of poetry over itselP' (p.
Like "Grief," Barrett's 1844 sonnet "Irreparableness
" mourns the death of a Wordsworthian vision of poetic language: Irreparableness
I have been in the meadows all the day And gathered there are nosegay that you see, Singing within myself as bird or bee When such do field-work on a morn of May.