A Selection from the Poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Smith, Elder, 1884

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Page 202 - 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.
Page 144 - 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 10 In the factories, round and round.
Page 145 - Who is God that He should hear us, While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word. And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding) Strangers speaking at the door: Is it likely God, with angels singing round Him, Hears our weeping any more? "Two words, indeed, of praying we remember, And at midnight's hour of harm, 'Our Father', looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm.
Page 146 - Let them weep ! let them weep ! They look up with their pale and sunken faces, And their look is dread to see, For they mind you of their angels in high places, With eyes turned on Deity.
Page 187 - IF thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say " I love her for her smile — her look — her way Of speaking gently, — for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day...
Page 175 - WITH stammering lips and insufficient sound, I strive and struggle to deliver right That music of my nature, day and night With dream and thought and feeling, interwound : And inly answering all the senses round With octaves of a mystic depth and height, Which step out grandly to the infinite From the dark edges of the sensual ground...
Page 145 - Is it likely God, with angels singing round him, Hears our weeping any more ? "Two words, indeed, of praying we remember. And at midnight's hour of harm, 'Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm. We know no other words except 'Our Father...
Page 264 - 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. III. High on the shore sat the great god Pan...
Page 143 - We looked into the pit prepared to take her : Was no room for any work in the close clay ! From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, Crying, " Get up, little Alice ! it is day.
Page 142 - 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...

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