Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The soul’ s Rialto hath its merchandize;
I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
And fro...

EXPERIENCE, like a pale musician, holds
A dulcimer of patience in his hand;
Whence harmonies...

"O DREARY life!" we cry, "O dreary life!"
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through ...

Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make
Of all that strong divineness which I know
For ...

A THOUGHT lay like a flower upon mine heart,
And drew around it other thoughts like bees
For m...

WORDSWORTH upon Helvellyn! Let the cloud
Ebb audibly along the mountain-wind,
Then break again...

Oh, yes! They love through all this world of ours!
I will not gainsay love, called love forsoo...

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between His After and Before,
And strike u...

My own Belovë d, who hast lifted me
From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,
An...

My letters! All dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my t...

My future will not copy fair my past
I wrote that once; and thinking at my side
My ministering ...

THE Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word--
No gesture of reproach! The Heavens serene,
Though...

Let the world’ s sharpness like a clasping knife
Shut in upon itself and do no harm
In th...

I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who...

I think of thee!my thoughts do twine and bud
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,
Put ou...