Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browningwas one of the most prominent English poets of the Victorian era, popular in Britain and the United States during her lifetime...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth6 March 1806
eye violet looks
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
eye sky azure
Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
time laughter eye
There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o' the world; oh, eyes sublime With tears and laughter for all time!
love eye winning
Death forerunneth Love to win "Sweetest eyes were ever seen."
school eye sorrow
"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, "God be praised."
eye soul tears
What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.
mean eye men
A man may love a woman perfectly, and yet by no means ignorantly maintain a thousand women have not larger eyes. Enough that she alone has looked at him with eyes that, large or small, have won his soul.
eye color brighter
Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.
sorry eye joyous
Large, musing eyes, neither joyous nor sorry.
eye delight littles
And there my little doves did sit With feathers softly brown And glittering eyes that showed their right To general Nature's deep delight.
eye years wind
The large white owl that with eye is blind, That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow, Is carried away in a gust of wind.
eye color waking
Nosegays! leave them for the waking, Throw them earthward where they grew Dim are such, beside the breaking Amaranths he looks unto. Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.
among beat books cases creeping felt fossils found giant high hour mouse pulling ribs secret small sun victorious
Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father's name; Piled high, packed large, /where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning's dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
afloat breaking god golden great paddling ruin spreading
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.