Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The beauty seems right
By force of beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.

The beauty seems right
By force of beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.

Deep violets, you liken to
The kindest eyes that look on you,
Without a thought disloyal.

Deep violets, you liken to
The kindest eyes that look on you,
Without a thought disloyal.

Sleep on, Baby, on the floor,
Tired of all the playing,
Sleep with smile the sweeter for
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Sleep on, Baby, on the floor,
Tired of all the playing,
Sleep with smile the sweeter for
That you dropped away in!
On your curls' full roundness stand
Golden lights serenely--
One cheek, pushed out by the hand,
Folds the dimple inly.

"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of read more

"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised.".

The large white owl that with eye is blind,
That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow,
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The large white owl that with eye is blind,
That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow,
Is carried away in a gust of wind.