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Robert Browning

A poem by Robert Browning: Garden Francies

  Garden Francies I. THE FLOWER’S NAME Here’s the garden she walked across, Arm in my arm, such a short while since: Hark, now I push its wicket, the moss Hinders the hinges and makes them wince! She must have …

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A poem by Robert Browning: From ‘Pauline’

  From ‘Pauline’ O God, where does this tend—these struggling aims? What would I have? What is this ‘sleep’, which seems To bound all? can there be a ‘waking’ point Of crowning life? The soul would never rule— It would …

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A poem by Robert Browning: From ‘Paracelsus’

  From ‘Paracelsus’ I TRUTH is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate’er you may believe. There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fullness; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh …

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A poem by Robert Browning: Fra Lippo Lippi

  Fra Lippo Lippi I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! You need not clap your torches to my face. Zooks, what’s to blame? you think you see a monk! What, ’tis past midnight, and you go the rounds, …

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A poem by Robert Browning: Evelyn Hope

  Evelyn Hope I. Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the glass; Little has yet …

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A poem by Robert Browning: Epilogue

  Epilogue At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time, When you set your fancies free, Will they pass to where–by death, fools think, imprisoned– Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so, –Pity me? …

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A poem by Robert Browning: Earth’s Immortalities

  Earth’s Immortalities FAME. See, as the prettiest graves will do in time, Our poet’s wants the freshness of its prime; Spite of the sexton’s browsing horse, the sods Have struggled through its binding osier rods; Headstone and half-sunk footstone …

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A poem by Robert Browning: De Gustibus

De Gustibus— I. Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies. Hark, those two in the hazel coppice— A boy and a girl, if the good …

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A poem by Robert Browning : Cristina

Cristina I. She should never have looked at me If she meant I should not love her! There are plenty … men, you call such, I suppose … she may discover All her soul to, if she pleases, And yet …

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A poem by Robert Browning : Confessions

Confessions What is he buzzing in my ears? “Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?” Ah, reverend sir, not I! What I viewed there once, what I view again Where the …

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A poem by Robert Browning : Confessional, The

Confessional, The [SPAIN.] I. It is a lie—their Priests, their Pope, Their Saints, their … all they fear or hope Are lies, and lies—there! through my door And ceiling, there! and walls and floor, There, lies, they lie—shall still be …

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A poem by Robert Browning : Cleon

Cleon “As certain also of your own poets have said”– (Acts 17.28) Cleon the poet (from the sprinkled isles, Lily on lily, that o’erlace the sea And laugh their pride when the light wave lisps “Greece”)– To Protus in his …

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A poem by Robert Browning : Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along

Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing: And, pressing a troop unable to stoop And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop, Marched them along, fifty score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, …

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