Robert Browning

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their read more

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their bosoms?

Progress is
The law of life, man is not
Man as yet.

Progress is
The law of life, man is not
Man as yet.

I give the fight up; let there be an end,
A privacy, an obscure nook for me,
read more

I give the fight up; let there be an end,
A privacy, an obscure nook for me,
I want to be forgotten even by God.

My star, God's glowworm.

My star, God's glowworm.

Then I cast loose my buff coat, each halter let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt read more

Then I cast loose my buff coat, each halter let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise bad or good,
'Til at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.