Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his read more

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in read more

Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father's name;
Piled high, packed large,--where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning's dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books!
At last, because the time was ripe,
I chanced upon the poets.

World's use is cold, world's love is vain,
World's cruelty is bitter bane;
But pain is not read more

World's use is cold, world's love is vain,
World's cruelty is bitter bane;
But pain is not the fruit of pain.

Hope, he called, belief
In God,--work, worship . . . therefore let us pray!

Hope, he called, belief
In God,--work, worship . . . therefore let us pray!

Life treads on life, and heart on heart;
We press too close in church and mart
To read more

Life treads on life, and heart on heart;
We press too close in church and mart
To keep a dream or grave apart.