Elizabeth Barrett Browning ( 10 of 96 )
What is art
But life upon the larger scale, the higher,
When, graduating up in a spiral read more
What is art
But life upon the larger scale, the higher,
When, graduating up in a spiral line
Of still expanding and ascending gyres,
It pushed toward the intense significance
Of all things, hungry for the Infinite?
Art's life--and where we live, we suffer and toil.
Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Purple violets for the mouth,
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Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Purple violets for the mouth,
Breathing perfumes west and south;
And a sword of flashing lilies,
Holden ready for the fight.
Eyes of gentianellas azure,
Staring, winking at the skies.
Eyes of gentianellas azure,
Staring, winking at the skies.
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.
The beauty seems right
By force of beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.
The beauty seems right
By force of beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
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Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden-close;
Her tears, to the wind-flower,--his blood, to the rose.
Light tomorrow with today.
Light tomorrow with today.
We get no good
By being ungenerous, even to a book,
And calculating profits--so much help
read more
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.
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.
God keeps a niche
In Heaven, to hold our idols; and albeit
He brake them to our read more
God keeps a niche
In Heaven, to hold our idols; and albeit
He brake them to our faces, and denied
That our close kisses should impair their white,--
I know we shall behold them raised, complete,
The dust swept from their beauty, glorified,
New Memnons singing in the great God-light.
