Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

Capacity for joy
Admits temptation.

Capacity for joy
Admits temptation.

And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
read more

And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
In an unprepared season?

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with read more

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with his hand
On all my birthdays, for me. save the last;
And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough,
For roses to stay after.

Every wish
Is like a prayer--with God.

Every wish
Is like a prayer--with God.