Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Patience Taught By Nature
'O
RY life,' we cry, ' O dreary life
'And still the generations of the
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and
The Souls Expression
TH stammering lips and insufficient soundI strive and struggle to deliver
That music of my nature, day and
With dream and thought and feeling
And inly answering all the senses
The Romaunt of Margret excerpts
IX“My lips do need thy breath, My lips do need thy smile, And my pallid eyne, that light in thine Which met the stars erewhile: Yet go with light and life If that thou lovest one In all the earth who loveth thee As truly as the sun
Margret,
Sonnet XXII When Our Two Souls Stand Up
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 curvèd point,—what bitter wrong Can the earth do to us, that we should not long Be here co...
Sonnet XXXVIII First Time He Kissed Me
First time he kissed me, he but only
The finger of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, list,"When the angels speak
De Profundis
The face, which, duly as the sun,
Rose up for me with life begun,
To mark all bright hours of the day With hourly love, is dimmed away—And yet my days go on, go on
II The tongue which, like a stream, could
Tears
NK God, bless God, all ye who suffer
More grief than ye can weep for
That is well—That is light grieving
lighter, none
The Best Thing in the World
What's the best thing in the world
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pain In Pleasure
A
HT ay like a flower upon mine heart,
And drew around it other thoughts like
For multitude and thirst of sweetnesses;
Sonnet XLIII How Do I Love Thee
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and
My soul can reach, when feeling out of
The Sweetness Of England
And when, at
Escaped,-so many a green slope built on
Betwixt me and the enemy's house behind,
I dared to rest, or wander,-like a
Cry Of The Children
Do ye hear the children weeping,
O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers—- And that cannot stop their tears
The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; The young birds...