Robert Browning
Robert Browning
Robert Browningwas an English poet and playwright whose mastery of the dramatic monologue made him one of the foremost Victorian poets. His poems are known for their irony, characterization, dark humour, social commentary, historical settings, and challenging vocabulary and syntax...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth7 May 1812
strength waste doom
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
sea islands lilies
From the sprinkled isles, Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.
life angel law
The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!
life men law
Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
hair gold brushes
Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms?
life dream life-is
Life is an empty dream.
life height gods-will
Other heights in other lives, God willing.
life two scar
If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.
blue hatred heaven
Hatred and cark and care, what place have they / In yon blue liberality of heaven?.
england april-and-spring april
Oh, to be in England now that April's there.
inspirational life positive
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?
wise book mean
How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!
song blow soul
I want to know a butcher paints, A baker rhymes for his pursuit, Candlestick-maker much acquaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, Blows out his brains upon the flute.
clouds mad earth
It 's wiser being good than bad; It 's safer being meek than fierce; It 's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That after Last returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched;