Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
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And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!

He likes the poor things of the world the best,
I would not, therefore, if I could be rich.
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He likes the poor things of the world the best,
I would not, therefore, if I could be rich.
It pleases him t stoop for buttercups.

In this bad, twisted, topsy-turvy world,
Where all the heaviest wrongs get uppermost.

In this bad, twisted, topsy-turvy world,
Where all the heaviest wrongs get uppermost.

We get no good
By being ungenerous, even to a book,
And calculating profits--so much help
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We get no good
By being ungenerous, even to a book,
And calculating profits--so much help
By so much reading. It is rather when
We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge
Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound,
Impassioned for its beauty, and salt of truth--
'Tis then we get the right good from a book.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.