Robert Browning

Only I discern
Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn.

Only I discern
Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn.

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

So free we seem, so fettered fast we are.

So free we seem, so fettered fast we are.

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their read more

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their bosoms?

Better have failed in the high aim, as I,
Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed
As, read more

Better have failed in the high aim, as I,
Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed
As, God be thanked! I do not.