Poems, Volume 3J. Miller, 1864 |
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... There's a verse he set In Santa Croce to her memory , ' Weep for an infant too young to weep much When death removed this mother ' - stops the mirth To - day , on women's faces when they walk With rosy children hanging on their gowns ...
... There's a verse he set In Santa Croce to her memory , ' Weep for an infant too young to weep much When death removed this mother ' - stops the mirth To - day , on women's faces when they walk With rosy children hanging on their gowns ...
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... there with knives ; A weary , wormy darkness , spurred i ' the flank With flame , that it should eat and end itself Like some tormented scorpion . Then , at last , I do remember clearly , how there came A stranger with authority , not ...
... there with knives ; A weary , wormy darkness , spurred i ' the flank With flame , that it should eat and end itself Like some tormented scorpion . Then , at last , I do remember clearly , how there came A stranger with authority , not ...
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... there with my grief , Might feel my love - she was his sister once- I clung to her . A moment , she seemed moved . Kissed me with cold lips , suffered me to cling , And drew me feebly through the hall , into The room she sate in . There ...
... there with my grief , Might feel my love - she was his sister once- I clung to her . A moment , she seemed moved . Kissed me with cold lips , suffered me to cling , And drew me feebly through the hall , into The room she sate in . There ...
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning. There seemed more true life in my father's grave Than in all England . Since that threw me off Who fain would cleave , ( his latest will , they say , Consigned me to his land ) I only thought Of lying quiet there ...
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. There seemed more true life in my father's grave Than in all England . Since that threw me off Who fain would cleave , ( his latest will , they say , Consigned me to his land ) I only thought Of lying quiet there ...
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... there . We get no good By being ungenerous , even to a book , And calculating profits . . so much help By so much reading . It is rather when We gloriously forget ourselves , and plunge Soul - forward , headlong , into a book's profound ...
... there . We get no good By being ungenerous , even to a book , And calculating profits . . so much help By so much reading . It is rather when We gloriously forget ourselves , and plunge Soul - forward , headlong , into a book's profound ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
Poems: Complete ... Corrected by the Last London Ed, Volume 3 Elizabeth Barrett Browning Visualização integral - 1869 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
answered Aurora Leigh babe better blood blue air breath catch cheeks child cousin Romney creature cried curse dare dead dear dream drop dropt earth Emperor Evermore eyes face father feel Florence flower girl God's Grand Duke grave grief half hand head heart heaven henceforth honour Italy Kate Ward keep kiss Lady Waldemar laugh leave light lips live look Lord man's Marian Erle Mark Gage marriage Miss Leigh mother Muse NAPOLEON III never night nosegay once passion paused perhaps phalanstery pity poets poor pray pretty Proclus Romney Leigh Romney's rose round sate scarcely scorn sigh sight silence Sir Blaise smile soul speak spoke stand stood strong sweet talk thee there's thing thou thought touch truth turned Tuscan twas twixt voice walk weep wife woman women word write wrong
Passagens conhecidas
Página 35 - ... gentle dimplement, (As if God's finger touched but did not press In making England) such an up and down Of verdure, — nothing too much up or down, A ripple of land; such little hills, the sky Can stoop to tenderly and the wheatfields climb; Such nooks of valleys lined with orchises, Fed full of noises by invisible streams; And open pastures where you scarcely tell White daisies from white dew, — at intervals The mythic oaks and elm-trees standing out Self-poised upon their prodigy of shade,...
Página 35 - And view the ground's most gentle dimplement (As if God's finger touched, but did not press In making England!), such an up and down Of verdure — nothing too much up or down, A ripple of land ; such little hills, the sky Can stoop to tenderly, and...
Página 2 - When scarcely I was four years old, my life A poor spark snatched up from a failing lamp Which went out therefore. She was weak and frail; She could not bear the joy of giving life, The mother's rapture slew her.
Página 163 - A little overgrown (I think there is), Their sole work is to represent the age, Their age, not Charlemagne's - this live, throbbing age, That brawls, cheats, maddens, calculates, aspires, And spends more passion, more heroic heat, Betwixt the mirrors of its drawing-rooms, Than Roland with his knights at Roncesvalles. To flinch from modern varnish, coat or flounce, Cry out for togas and the picturesque, Is fatal - foolish too.
Página 164 - Never flinch, But still, unscrupulously epic, catch Upon the burning lava of a song The full-veined, heaving, double-breasted Age . That, when the next shall come, the men of that May touch the impress with reverent hand, and say ' Behold, —behold the paps we all have sucked ! This bosom seems to beat still, or at least It sets ours beating : this is living art, Which thus presents and thus records true life.
Página 397 - shalt thou write My curse to-night. Because thou hast strength to see and hate A foul thing done within thy gate.' ' Not so,' I answered once again. ' To curse, choose men. For I, a woman, have only known How the heart melts and the tears run down.
Página 162 - An age of scum, spooned off the richer past, An age of patches for old gaberdines, An age of mere transition, meaning nought Except that what succeeds must shame it quite If God please. That's wrong thinking, to my mind, And wrong thoughts make poor poems. Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it.
Página 254 - I felt the wind soft from the land of souls ; The old miraculous mountains heaved in sight, One straining past another along the shore, The way of grand dull Odyssean ghosts Athirst to drink the cool blue wine of seas, And stare on voyagers. Peak pushing peak, They stood. I watched, beyond that Tyrian belt...
Página 239 - Which so, that she might clutch with both her hands, And chink to her naughty uses undisturbed, She served me (after all it was not strange : 'Twas only what my mother would have done) A motherly, right damnable good turn.