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Há 1 dia · My curse to-night. Because thou hast strength to see and hate. A foul thing done within thy gate.'. 'Not so,' I answered once again. 'To curse, choose men. For I, a woman, have only known. How the heart melts and the tears run down.'. 'Therefore,' the voice said, 'shalt thou write. My curse to-night.
Há 3 dias · Call me no longer. Silence on the bier, While I call God -call God!-So let thy mouth. Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south, And catch the early love up in the late. Yes, call me by that name,-and I, in truth, With the same heart, will answer and not wait. Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
25 de mai. de 2024 · I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use.
1 de jun. de 2024 · Stanzas On The Death Of Lord Byron. He was, and is not! Graecia's trembling shore, Sighing through all her palmy groves, shall tell. That Harold's pilgrimage at last is o'er-. Mute the impassioned tongue, and tuneful shell, That erst was wont in noblest strains to swell-. Hush'd the proud shouts that rode Aegaea's wave!
Há 6 dias · I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love with a passion put to use. In my old griefs, and with my childhood 's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose. With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
30 de mai. de 2024 · Of the sweet years, the dear and wish'd-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears. To bear a gift for mortals old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw in gradual vision through my tears. The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years--. Those of my own life, who by turns had flung. A shadow across me.
1 de jun. de 2024 · To the white throne of God, I turned at last, And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied. To angels in thy soul! Then I, long tried. By natural ills, received the comfort fast, While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff. Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled. I seek no copy now of life's first half:
