Robert Browning

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven
What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven
What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before,
If bent on groaning ever for the past?

But how carve way i' the life that lies before,
If bent on groaning ever for the past?

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

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

If I stoop
Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud,
It is but for a time; I read more

If I stoop
Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud,
It is but for a time; I press God's lamp
Close to my breast; its splendor soon or late
Will pierce the gloom; I shall emerge one day.

Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.

Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.