With what cracked pitchers go we to deep wells In this world! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
Enough! we're tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were carved for us. The… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
Beloved, let us live so well our work shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
I f thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love her… — 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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
Wall must get the weather stain Before they grow the ivy. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
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 Image
With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
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 Image
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 Image
