Robert Browning

Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone,
Not God's, and not the beast's;
God is, they are,
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Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone,
Not God's, and not the beast's;
God is, they are,
Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.

And I have written three books on the soul,
Proving absurd all written hitherto,
And putting us read more

And I have written three books on the soul,
Proving absurd all written hitherto,
And putting us to ignorance again.

Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, read more

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to flight better,
Sleep to wake.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves,
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves,
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.