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Complete Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning: In Two Volumes
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Просмотр фрагмента - 1919
angels answered beauty better bird bless breath brow calm child cold crown curse dark dead dear death deep dream drop earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet flowers give glory God's grave grow half hand head hear heard heart heaven hold hope Italy keep lady leave Leigh less light lips live look Marian means mother nature never night once pale pass poet poor pray rest Romney rose round seemed side sight silence sing sleep slowly smile song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood strong sweet tears thee thine things thou thought Toll touch trees true truth turned voice weep wind woman write wrong young
Стр. 223 - 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 every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
Стр. 156 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing towards the west — But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, in the country of the free.
Стр. 223 - Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 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.
Стр. 214 - I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears • To bear a gift for mortals, old or young; • And, as I mused it in his antique . — - tongue, I saw in gradual vision, through my tears, • The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware, So weeping, how a mystic shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair; And a...
Стр. 48 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Стр. 103 - Of yon grey blank of sky, we might grow faint To muse upon eternity's constraint Round our aspirant souls ; but since the scope Must widen early, is it well to droop, For a few days consumed in loss and taint ? O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road, Singing beside the hedge ! What if the bread Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod To meet the flints? At least it may be said, " Because the way is short, I thank thee, God.
Стр. 157 - we are weary, And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For all day we drag our burden tiring Through the coal-dark, underground; Or all day we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round.
Стр. 99 - I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless ; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God's throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness, In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens.
Стр. 186 - So the dreams depart, So the fading phantoms flee, And the sharp reality Now must act its part.' WESTWOOD'S ' BEADS FROM A ROSARY.' LITTLE Elite sits alone 'Mid the beeches of a meadow By a stream-side on the grass, And the trees are showering down Doubles of their leaves in shadow On her shining hair and face.
Стр. 219 - I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read Thy thought so in the letter. I am thine— But. . so much to thee? Can I pour thy wine While my hands tremble? Then my soul, instead Of dreams of death, resumes life's lower range! Then, love me, Love! look on me .. breathe on me! As brighter ladies do not count it strange, For love, to give up acres and degree, I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee!