What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Poetical Works V3 (1899), Volume 3
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
No preview available - 2008
acrostic aether Anacreontic angels Apolinarius back the Grand back your Grand beauty Ben Jonson bishop blank verse blessed brave breath brow called Chaucer child Christian cold critics crown curse Cyclops days go dead deed divine dream Dryden earth Emperor Evermore Euripides eyes face fair flowers genius gifts glory God's golden Gorboduc grace Grand Duke grave Greek Gregory Gregory Nazianzen hand hast heart heaven Heraclius Homer honour Italy John Heywood King kiss Knight's Tale lady light lips live look love's Michael Psellus mother mouth nations nature Nazianzen nightingales noble passion Pindar Plato poems poet poet's poetical poetry Pope praise Psyche Queen reader rhyme scarcely Shakespeare sigh sing sleep smile song soul speak stand sweet sword Synesius tears Theseus thine things thought throne tion Tou'll take back true truth turned voice William Wordsworth word write Zeus
Page 118 - He tore out a reed, the great God Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river : The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.
Page 118 - WHAT was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat • With the dragon-fly on the river? He tore out a reed, the great god Pan...
Page 160 - When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee, When your flag takes all heaven for its white, green and red, When you have your country from mountain to sea, When King Victor has Italy's crown on his head, (And / have my Dead) — What then?
Page 33 - Down she stepped to a pallet where lay a face like a girl's, Young, and pathetic with dying, — a deep black hole in the curls. "Art thou from Tuscany, brother? and seest thou, dreaming in pain. Thy mother stand in the -piazza, searching the list of the slain...
Page 167 - Yet oh, for the skies that are softer and higher!' Sighed the North to the South; 'For the flowers that blaze, and the trees that aspire, And the insects made of a song or a fire!
Page 160 - Forgive me. Some women bear children in strength, And bite back the cry of their pain in self-scorn ; But the birth-pangs of nations will wring us at length Into wail such as this — and we sit on forlorn When the man-child is born.
Page 87 - She never found fault with you, never implied Your wrong by her right ; and yet men at her side Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town , The children were gladder that pulled at her gown — My Kate.
Page 156 - Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east, And one of them shot in the west by the sea, Both ! both my boys ! If in keeping the feast You want a great song for your Italy free, Let none look at me.
Page 35 - Long she s'tood and gazed, and twice she tried at the name; But two great crystal tears were all that faltered and came. Only a tear for Venice ? She turned as in passion and loss, And stooped to his forehead and kissed it, as if she were kissing the cross.