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This was a very decent collection of poetry by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The Sonnets from the Portuguese was my personal favourite gem and stood as a crowning achievement in her work. There were ... Ler resenha completa
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The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Complete)
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Visualização parcial - 1910
Adam Ador angels Antistrophe art thou Aurora Aurora Leigh beauty beloved beneath birds bless breath brow calm cheeks child chrism crown curse dark dead dear death doth dream drop dropt earth evermore eyes face fair father flowers gaze glory God's grave grief hack hand hast hath head hear heart heaven holy Italy Kate Ward keep kiss lady laugh leave light lips live look Lucifer Margret Marian mother neath never night nosegay o'er Oceanus pale passion phalanstery pity poet poor praise pray Prometheus rose round scorn semichorus seraph shine sigh sight silence sing sleep smile song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood strong sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought throne Toll slowly touch trees turned Tuscan twas twixt voice wail ween weep wind woman word Zerah Zeus
Página 151 - 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.
Página 68 - OF all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward unto souls afar, Along the Psalmist's music deep, Now tell me if that any is, For gift or grace, surpassing this — ' He giveth His beloved sleep ' ? What would we give to our beloved? The hero's heart to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch's crown, to light the brows? — He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Página 141 - 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 voice said in mastery while I strove, . . . »Guess now who...
Página 68 - 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 68 - 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.
Página 68 - And, friends, dear friends, — when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round 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.
Página 523 - Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan ! Piercing sweet by the river ! Blinding sweet, O great god Pan ! The sun on the hill forgot to die, And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly Came back to dream on the river.
Página 302 - It is good when it happens,' say the children, 'That we die before our time !' Alas, alas, the children t they are seeking Death in life as best to have ! They are binding up their .hearts away from breaking, With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city — Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do — Pluck your handfuls of the...
Página 146 - WHEN our two souls stand up erect and strong, Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, Until the lengthening wings break into fire At either curved point, — what bitter wrong Can the earth do to us, that we should not long Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher, The angels would press...
Página 68 - 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, Half waking me at night, and said ' ' Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser ?