Robert Browning

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land,
Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land,
Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

And I have written three books on the soul,
Proving absurd all written hitherto,
And putting us read more

And I have written three books on the soul,
Proving absurd all written hitherto,
And putting us to ignorance again.

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

There's a woman like a dew-drop,
She's so purer than the purest.

There's a woman like a dew-drop,
She's so purer than the purest.

From the sprinkled isles,
Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.

From the sprinkled isles,
Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.