Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

All Poems Original Poems Translations

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Perplexed Music

Experience, like a pale musician, holds

A dulcimer of patience in his hand,

Whence harmonies, we cannot understand,

Of God; will in his worlds, the strain unfolds

In sad-perplexed minors: deathly colds

Fall on us while we hear, and countermand

Our sanguine heart back from the fancyland

With nightingales in visionary wolds.

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Aurora Leigh: Book Three

"To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself

And goest where thou wouldest: presently

Others shall gird thee," said the Lord, "to go

Where thou wouldst not." He spoke to Peter thus,

To signify the death which he should die

When crucified head downward.

If He spoke

To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Grief

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;

That only men incredulous of despair,

Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air

Beat upward to God's throne in loud access

Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,

In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare

Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare

Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet XXXII: The First Time

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

To love me, I looked forward to the moon

To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon

And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.

Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;

And, looking on myself, I seemed not one

For such man's love!—more like an out-of-tune

Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet XXXVIII: First Time He Kissed Me

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed

The finger of this hand wherewith I write;

And ever since, it grew more clean and white,

Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, list,"

When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst

I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,

Than that first kiss. The second passed in height

The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Exaggeration

WE overstate the ills of life, and take

Imagination (given us to bring down

The choirs of singing angels overshone

By God's clear glory) down our earth to rake

The dismal snows instead, flake following flake,

To cover all the corn; we walk upon

The shadow of hills across a level thrown,

And pant like climbers: near the alder brake

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

friends I knowConcentred in one heart their gentleness,That still grew gentler till its pulse was lessFor life than pity,—I should yet be slowTo bring my own heart nakedly belowThe palm of such a friend, that he should pressMotive, condition, means, appliances,My false ideal joy and fickle woe,Out full to light and knowledge; I should fearSome plait between the brows, some rougher chimeIn the free voice. O angels, let your floodOf bitter scorn dash on me ! do ye hearWhat I say who hear calmly all the timeThis everlasting face to face with GOD ?