Elizabeth Barrett Browning

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with read more

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with his hand
On all my birthdays, for me. save the last;
And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough,
For roses to stay after.

Beautiful.
(in reply to her husband who had asked how she felt moments before her death.).

Beautiful.
(in reply to her husband who had asked how she felt moments before her death.).

If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love read more

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- For these things in themselves, Beloved, may be changed, or change for thee- and love so wrought, May be unwrought so.

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are read more

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,
And that cannot stop their tears.

And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
read more

And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
In an unprepared season?