Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low,
Lest read more

Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low,
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.

The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go read more

The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go sighing round,
"What love can ever cure this wound?"
My days go on, my days go on.

And there my little doves did sit
With feathers softly brown
And glittering eyes that showed their read more

And there my little doves did sit
With feathers softly brown
And glittering eyes that showed their right
To general Nature's deep delight.

Since when was genius found respectable?

Since when was genius found respectable?