A Selection from the Poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Second Series

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F.A. Stokes & Brother, 1889 - 262 pages

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Page 235 - 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.
Page 168 - 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.
Page 170 - And well may the children weep before you ? They are weary ere they run ; They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun. They know the grief of man, without...
Page 148 - O earth, so full of dreary noises ! O men, with wailing in your voices ! O delved gold, the wailers heap! O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! God strikes a silence through you all, And giveth His beloved, sleep.
Page 225 - 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 curve'd 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 on us and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay Rather on earth...
Page 228 - MY letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said, — he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing, Yet I wept for it!
Page 167 - If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower, With your ear down, little Alice never cries ; Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, For the smile has time for growing in her eyes : And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in The shroud by the kirk-chime. ' It is good when it happens,' say the children,
Page 170 - 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 233 - FIRST time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, list," When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. The second passed in height The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed, Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed! That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown, With sanctifying sweetness, did...
Page 141 - And because he loves me so, Better than his kind will do Often, man or woman, Give I back more love again Than dogs often take of men, Leaning from my Human.

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