All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee; All the wonder and wealth of the… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
I would have rummaged, ransacked at the word; Those old odd corners of an empty heart; For remnants of dim love the long disused,… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
“One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph.” — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
“Have you found your life distasteful? My life did and does smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I save and hold… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
“I was ever a fighter, so---one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forbore, and… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past? — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy! — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing! — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture! — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
