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.

Wall must get the weather stain
Before they grow the ivy.

Wall must get the weather stain
Before they grow the ivy.

I was betrothed that day;
I wore a troth kiss on my lips I could not give away.

I was betrothed that day;
I wore a troth kiss on my lips I could not give away.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height read more

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, -I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow
But thinking of a wreath, . . .
I read more

That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow
But thinking of a wreath, . . .
I like such ivy; bold to leap a height
'Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves
As twist about a thyrsus; pretty too
(And that's not ill) when twisted round a comb.