Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an English poet and the wife of fellow poet Robert Browning.
Found 112 thoughts of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And each man stand with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Let no one till his death be called unhappy. Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Who so loves believes the impossible.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He, in his developed manhood, stood, a little sunburn by the glare of life.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers and thrust the thing we have prayed for in our face, like a gauntlet with a gift in it.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He lives most life whoever breathes most air.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A woman is always younger than a man at equal years.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Since when was genius found respectable?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

For tis not in mere death that men die most.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Earth's crammed with heaven.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

III

Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart !
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art
A guest for queens to social pageantries,
With gages from a hundred brighter eyes
Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part
Of chief musician. What hast thou to do
With looking from the lattice-lights at me,
A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through
The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree ?
The chrism is on thine head,--on mine, the dew,--
And Death must dig the level where these agree.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 34 - With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee

With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee
As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—
Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
Perplexed and ruffled by life's strategy?
When called before, I told how hastily
I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
To run and answer with the smile that came
At play last moment, and went on with me
Through my obedience. When I answer now,
I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
Yet still my heart goes to thee—ponder how—
Not as to a single good, but all my good!
Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
That no child's foot could run fast as this blood.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 15 - Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear

Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine
With the same sunlight on our brow and hair.
On me thou lookest with no doubting care,
As on a bee shut in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine,
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so. But I look on thee—on thee—
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,
Hearing oblivion beyond memory;
As one who sits and gazes from above,
Over the rivers to the bitter sea.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Weakest Thing

Which is the weakest thing of all
Mine heart can ponder?
The sun, a little cloud can pall
With darkness yonder?
The cloud, a little wind can move
Where'er it listeth?
The wind, a little leaf above,
Though sere, resisteth?

What time that yellow leaf was green,
My days were gladder;
But now, whatever Spring may mean,
I must grow sadder.
Ah me! a leaf with sighs can wring
My lips asunder—
Then is mine heart the weakest thing
Itself can ponder.

Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined
And drop together,
And at a blast, which is not wind,
The forests wither,
Thou, from the darkening deathly curse
To glory breakest,—
The Strongest of the universe
Guarding the weakest!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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