The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Macmillan Company, 1903 - 667 páginas
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Página 306 - ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair, And a voice said in mastery while I strove, . . ' Guess now who holds thee ? ' — ' Death,' I said. But, there, The silver answer rang, . .
Página 531 - He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river; The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.
Página 124 - Sleep soft, beloved !" we sometimes say, But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again. Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Página 307 - Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore Alone upon the threshold of my door Of individual life, I shall command The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore — Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine With pulses that beat double. What I do 5*5 And what I dream include thee, as the wine Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue God for...
Página 355 - 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.
Página 43 - Pure as the expanse of heaven I thither went With unexperienced thought and laid me down On the green bank to look into the clear Smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. As I bent down to look just opposite A shape within the watery gleam appeared Bending to look on me. I started back It started back but pleased I soon returned Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love.
Página 241 - 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 toward 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.
Página 296 - THEY say that God lives very high; But, if you look above the pines, You cannot see our God; and why ? And, if you dig down in the mines, You never see him in the gold ; Though from him all that's glory shines. God is so good he wears a fold Of heaven and earth across his face, Like secrets kept for love, untold. But still I feel that his embrace Slides down by thrills through all things made, — Through sight and sound of every place. As if my tender mother laid On my shut lips her kisses' pressure,...
Página 42 - I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Página 311 - I LIVED with visions for my company Instead of men and women, years ago, And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know A sweeter music than they played to me.

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