That’s my last duchess painted on the wall,Looking as if she were alive. I callThat piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s handsWorked busily a day, and there she stands.Will’t please…
Posts published in “Robert Browning Poems”
All that I knowOf a certain star,Is, it can throw(Like the angled spar)Now a dart of red,Now a dart of blue,Till my friends have saidThey would fain see, too,My star…
Overhead the tree-tops meet,Flowers and grass spring ’neath one’s feet;There was nought above me, and nought below,My childhood had not learned to know:For what are the voices of birds—Ay, and…
Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,And the sun looked over the mountain’s rim:And straight was a path of gold for him,And the need of a world of…
An Old Story I It was roses, roses, all the way,With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,A…
A Child’s Story Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,By famous Hanover city;The river Weser, deep and wide,Washes its wall on the southern side;A pleasanter spot you never spied;But, when begins my ditty,Almost…
The year ’s at the spring,And day ’s at the morn;Morning ’s at seven;The hill-side ’s dew-pearl’d;The lark ’s on the wing;The snail ’s on the thorn;*** ’s in His…
The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with…
I That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,And the blue eyeDear and dewy,And that infantine fresh air of hers! II To think men cannot take you, Sweet,And enfold you,Ay, and hold you,And…
Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,The mist in my face,When the snows begin, and the blasts denoteI am nearing the place,The power of the night, the press of…
Nay but you, who do not love her, Is she not pure gold, my mistress?Holds earth aught—speak truth—above her? Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,And this last fairest tress of…
I As I ride, as I ride,With a full heart for my guide,So its tide rocks my side,As I ride, as I ride,That, as I were double-eyed,He, in whom our…
Thus the Mayne glidethWhere my Love abideth;Sleep ’s no softer: it proceedsOn through lawns, on through meads,On and on, whate’er befall,Meandering and musical,Though the niggard pasturageBears not on its shaven…
I Oh Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find!I can hardly misconceive you; it would prove me deaf and blind;But although I give you credit, ’tis with such a…
I wonder how you feel to-dayAs I have felt since, hand in hand,We sat down on the grass, to strayIn spirit better through the land,This morn of Rome and May?…
(As Distinguished by an Italian Person of Quality) I Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare,The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the…
I What’s become of WaringSince he gave us all the slip,Chose land-travel or seafaring,Boots and chest, or staff and scrip,Rather than pace up and downAny longer London-town? Who’d have guessed…
I. Let’s contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep:All be as before, Love, —Only sleep! II. What so wild as words are? I and thouIn debate, as birds are, Hawk on bough! III. See…
The year’s at the spring,And day’s at the morn;Morning’s at seven;The hill-side’s dew-pearled;The lark’s on the wing;The snail’s on the thorn;***’s in his Heaven— All’s right with the world!
You’ll love me yet!—and I can tarryYour love’s protracted growing:June reared that bunch of flowers you carryFrom seeds of April’s sowing. I plant a heartful now: some seedAt least is…