Select Poems of Robert BrowningHarper, 1886 - 200 páginas |
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Página 63
... made head , gained ground upon the whole ! ' As the bird wings and sings , Let us cry All good things 70 Are ours , nor soul helps flesh more , now , than flesh helps soul ! ' XIII . Therefore I summon age To grant youth's heritage.
... made head , gained ground upon the whole ! ' As the bird wings and sings , Let us cry All good things 70 Are ours , nor soul helps flesh more , now , than flesh helps soul ! ' XIII . Therefore I summon age To grant youth's heritage.
Página 79
... sing old worlds , and so New worlds that from my footstool go . Clearer loves sound other ways : I miss my little human praise . ' Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings , off fell The flesh disguise , remained the cell . ' T was Easter Day ...
... sing old worlds , and so New worlds that from my footstool go . Clearer loves sound other ways : I miss my little human praise . ' Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings , off fell The flesh disguise , remained the cell . ' T was Easter Day ...
Página 86
... in a look , or sing it ? XI . I did look , sharp as a lynx ( And yet the memory rankles ) When models arrived , some minx Tripped up stairs , she and her ankles . 35 40 YOUTH AND ART . 87 45 XII . But I 86 ROBERT BROWNING .
... in a look , or sing it ? XI . I did look , sharp as a lynx ( And yet the memory rankles ) When models arrived , some minx Tripped up stairs , she and her ankles . 35 40 YOUTH AND ART . 87 45 XII . But I 86 ROBERT BROWNING .
Página 98
... their Rafael of the dear Madonnas , Oh , their Dante of the dread Inferno , Wrote one song - and in my brain I sing it , Drew one angel - borne , see , on my bosom ! 200 PROSPICE . FEAR death ? -to feel the fog in. 98 ROBERT BROWNING .
... their Rafael of the dear Madonnas , Oh , their Dante of the dread Inferno , Wrote one song - and in my brain I sing it , Drew one angel - borne , see , on my bosom ! 200 PROSPICE . FEAR death ? -to feel the fog in. 98 ROBERT BROWNING .
Página 117
... singing ) The year's at the spring , And day's at the morn ; Morning's at seven ; The hill - side's dew - pearled : The lark's on the wing ; The snail's on the thorn ; God's in his heaven- All's right with the world ! ( PIPPA passes ...
... singing ) The year's at the spring , And day's at the morn ; Morning's at seven ; The hill - side's dew - pearled : The lark's on the wing ; The snail's on the thorn ; God's in his heaven- All's right with the world ! ( PIPPA passes ...
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Términos y frases comunes
angel Asolo Belle Aurore better BISHOP ORDERS Bluphocks Browning Society Browning's called Childe Roland church Clive complines Correggio Croisic Damfreville dare DARK TOWER dead Dramatic early eds earth edition English eyes face fancy fear Ferishtah's Fancies fleet friends galloped Gandolf girl give God's hand hate heart heaven Hervé Riel Hogue hope INTERLUDE Jules king laughed Le Croisic lips live look Louis Na Luigi Lutwyche Madonna Maffeo miles Monsignor morning Mother Natalia never night Nishapur notes o'er once ORDERS HIS TOMB Ottima Paracelsus Phene Pippa Passes poem poet Possagno praise Praxed's RABBI BEN EZRA Robert Browning Robert Clive Rolfe Rolfe's SCENE Sebald Shakespeare ship singing smile song sonnets soul speak star Student sure thee there's thing thou thought thro turned Tydeus Venice voice wine women word youth ΙΟ
Pasajes populares
Página 136 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Página 44 - Then, welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
Página 43 - GROW old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in his hand Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!
Página 73 - 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.
Página 73 - And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
Página 40 - Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off, And Moses with the tables . . . but I know Ye mark me not! What do they whisper thee, Child of my bowels, Anselm?
Página 34 - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; ' Good speed !' cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; 'Speed!' echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place ; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique...
Página 40 - Dying in state and by such slow degrees, I fold my arms as if they clasped a crook, And stretch my feet forth straight as stone can point...
Página 36 - for Aix is in sight!" "How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Página 25 - Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 'Twixt the offing here and Greve where the river disembogues? Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?