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Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Poetical Works, Volume 4
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
No preview available - 2015
angels beatific beauty behold beneath bird bless blind bower breath brow burn calm Casa Guidi windows cheek chrism Cimabue cloud crown curse Cyprus wine dark dear death doth dream drop earth evermore face fair feet Florence flowers gaze Giotto giveth His beloved glory God's golden gorses grave hand hast hear heart heaven holy hope Italy kiss knee laugh leave life's light lips live look Lorenzo the Magnificent love thee love's mother Naiads Neath never o'er once pale Pan is dead Petrarch pitiful poet poet's praise purple rose round sate shining shout sigh sight silence sing sleep smile song soul stand stone sweet Sweetest eyes tears Theocritus thine things thou art thought touch tremble truth turned Tuscan twixt VIII virelay voice ween weep wilt thou go wind wine word
Page 107 - For me, my heart that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose, Who giveth His beloved, sleep. And, friends, dear friends, — when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier ye come to weep, Let One, most loving of you all, Say, ' Not a tear must o'er her fall ; ' He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Page 105 - 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...
Page 106 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Page 105 - What would we give to our beloved? The hero's heart to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch's crown, to light the brows? — He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Page 111 - And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story, How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory, And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face because so brokenhearted, He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation.
Page 106 - we sometimes say, But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Page 112 - And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic senses As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences ; The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number, And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.
Page 96 - God is so good, He wears a fold Of Heaven and earth across His face — Like secrets kept for love untold. But still I feel that His embrace Slides down by thrills, through all things made, Through sight and sound of every place ; As if my tender mother laid On my shut lids her kisses' pressure, Half waking me at night, and said, " Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser?
Page 49 - THERE is no God,' the foolish saith, — ' But none, ' There is no sorrow ; ' And nature oft, the cry of faith, In bitter need will borrow : Eyes, which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised ; And lips say, ' God be pitiful,' Who ne'er said,