Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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.

Get leave to work
In this world,--'tis the best you get at all.

Get leave to work
In this world,--'tis the best you get at all.

By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out read more

By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight,
Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir,
To put on when you're weary--or a stool
To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool!
Or else at best, a cushion where you lean
And sleep, and dream of something we are not,
But would be for your sake. Alas, alas!
This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid
The worth of our work, perhaps.

You forget too much
That every creature, female as the male,
Stands single in responsible act and read more

You forget too much
That every creature, female as the male,
Stands single in responsible act and thought
As also in birth and death.

The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise,
I barter for curl upon that mart.

The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise,
I barter for curl upon that mart.