Elizabeth Barrett Browning ( 10 of 96 )
Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
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Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer;
Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
Yet half the beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh, as he sits by the river,
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Yet half the beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh, as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man.
The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain--
For the reed that grows never more again
As a reed with the reeds of the river.
"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of read more
"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised.".
Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in read more
Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father's name;
Piled high, packed large,--where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning's dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books!
At last, because the time was ripe,
I chanced upon the poets.
For poets (bear the word)
Half-poets even, are still whole democrats.
For poets (bear the word)
Half-poets even, are still whole democrats.
And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
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And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
In an unprepared season?
And friends, dear friends,--when it shall be
That this low breath is gone from me,
And gone read more
And friends, dear friends,--when it shall be
That this low breath is gone from me,
And gone my bier ye come to weep,
Let One, most loving of you all,
Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall;
He giveth His beloved sleep."
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and read more
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time.
At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.
At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.
Yet here's eglantine,
Here's ivy!--take them as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where read more
Yet here's eglantine,
Here's ivy!--take them as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true,
And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine.