Tag Archives: Robert Browning

My Last Duchess: Robert Browning

  That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will’t please you sit and look at … Continue reading

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Meeting At Night: Robert Browning

The grey sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low; And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed … Continue reading

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Waring: Robert Browning

I. What’s become of Waring Since he gave us all the slip, Chose land-travel or seafaring, Boots and chest or staff and scrip, Rather than pace up and down Any longer London town? II. Who’d have guessed it from his … Continue reading

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The Lost Mistress: Robert Browning

All’s over, then: does truth sound bitter As one at first believes? Hark, ’tis the sparrows’ good-night twitter About your cottage eaves! And the leaf-buds on the vine are wooly, I noticed that, to-day; One day more bursts them open … Continue reading

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Truth: Robert Browning

Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate’er you may believe. There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fullness; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This … Continue reading

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