Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And lilies white, prepared to touch
The whitest thought, nor soil it much,
Of dreamer turned to read more

And lilies white, prepared to touch
The whitest thought, nor soil it much,
Of dreamer turned to lover.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

We get no good
By being ungenerous, even to a book,
And calculating profits--so much help
read more

We get no good
By being ungenerous, even to a book,
And calculating profits--so much help
By so much reading. It is rather when
We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge
Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound,
Impassioned for its beauty, and salt of truth--
'Tis then we get the right good from a book.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height read more

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, -I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Let no one till his death be called unhappy. Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor read more

Let no one till his death be called unhappy. Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.