Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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.

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.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive,
Half wishing they were dead to save the shame.
The read more

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive,
Half wishing they were dead to save the shame.
The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow;
They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats,
And flare up bodily, wings and all.

And a breastplate made of daisies,
Closely fitting, leaf on leaf,
Periwinkles interlaced
Drawn read more

And a breastplate made of daisies,
Closely fitting, leaf on leaf,
Periwinkles interlaced
Drawn for belt about the waist;
While the brown bees, humming praises,
Shot their arrows round the chief.

The place is all awave with trees,
Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded,
Acacias having drunk the lees
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The place is all awave with trees,
Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded,
Acacias having drunk the lees
Of the night-dew, fain headed,
And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem
The fittest foliage for a dream.