Maxioms by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
For poets (bear the word)
Half-poets even, are still whole democrats.
For poets (bear the word)
Half-poets even, are still whole democrats.
O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
But pale, read more
O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat,--
Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
He likes the poor things of the world the best,
I would not, therefore, if I could be rich.
read more
He likes the poor things of the world the best,
I would not, therefore, if I could be rich.
It pleases him t stoop for buttercups.
Who so loves believes the impossible.
Who so loves believes the impossible.
