Robert Browning

So free we seem, so fettered fast we are.

So free we seem, so fettered fast we are.

Let my hand,
This hand, lie in your own--my own true friend;
Aprile! Hand-in-hand with you, Aprile!

Let my hand,
This hand, lie in your own--my own true friend;
Aprile! Hand-in-hand with you, Aprile!

Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat;
read more

Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat;
Found the one gift of which Fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others she lets us devote.

To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

And gain is gain, however small.

And gain is gain, however small.