Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotes

Many a crown
Covers bald foreheads.

Many a crown
Covers bald foreheads.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes read more

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

There's not a crime
But takes its proper change out still in crime
If once rung on read more

There's not a crime
But takes its proper change out still in crime
If once rung on the counter of this world.

At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.

At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.

This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.

This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music read more

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music deep,
Now tell me if that any is.
For gift or grace, surpassing this--
"He giveth His beloved sleep."

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and read more

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time.

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with read more

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with his hand
On all my birthdays, for me. save the last;
And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough,
For roses to stay after.

"There's nothing great
Nor small," has said a poet of our day,
Whose voice will ring beyond read more

"There's nothing great
Nor small," has said a poet of our day,
Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve
And not be thrown out by the matin's bell.