Elizabeth Barrett Browning ( 10 of 96 )
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.
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.
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.
Wall must get the weather stain
Before they grow the ivy.
Wall must get the weather stain
Before they grow the ivy.
God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,
And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face,
read more
God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,
And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face,
A gauntlet with a gift in 't.
. . . Purple lilies Dante blew
To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
. . . Purple lilies Dante blew
To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
Get leave to work
In this world,--'tis the best you get at all.
Get leave to work
In this world,--'tis the best you get at all.
Since when was genius found respectable?
Since when was genius found respectable?
By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out read more
By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight,
Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir,
To put on when you're weary--or a stool
To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool!
Or else at best, a cushion where you lean
And sleep, and dream of something we are not,
But would be for your sake. Alas, alas!
This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid
The worth of our work, perhaps.
Knowledge by suffering entereth,
And life is perfected by Death.
Knowledge by suffering entereth,
And life is perfected by Death.
