Pomegranates from an English Garden: A Selection from the Poems of Robert Browning

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Chautauqua Press, 1885 - English poetry - 137 pages
 

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Page 34 - JUST for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat — Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others, she lets us devote...
Page 12 - Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-West died away ; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay ; In the dimmest North-East distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray; " Here and here did England help me : how can I help England...
Page 48 - Fear death? — to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit attained, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, The reward of it all.
Page 63 - But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that can, Existent behind all laws : that made them, and, lo, they are ! And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
Page 14 - So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!
Page 34 - Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, Forced praise on our part — the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again!
Page 83 - Would I suffer for him that I love? So wouldst thou — so wilt thou ! So shall crown thee the topmost, ineffablest, uttermost crown — And thy love fill infinitude wholly, nor leave up nor down One spot for the creature to stand in! It is by no breath, Turn of eye, wave of hand, that salvation joins issue with death...
Page 45 - It was not her time to love ; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till God's hand beckoned unawares, — And the sweet white brow is all of her.
Page 86 - And thus looking within and around me, I ever renew (With that stoop of the soul which in bending upraises it too) The submission of man's nothing-perfect to God's all-complete, As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to his feet.
Page 11 - Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — That 's the wise thrush ; he sings each song twice over Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture...

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