Think, in mounting higher, the angels would press on us, and aspire to drop some golden orb of perfect song into our deep, dear silence. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
“The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of they soul Move still, oh, still, beside… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
They say that God lives very high! But if you look above the pines You cannot see our God. And why? And if you… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
Men of science, osteologists And surgeons, beat some poets, in respect For nature,-count nought common or unclean, Spend raptures upon perfect specimens Of indurated… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share
