ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING'S POEMS

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Стр. 25 - Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 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 In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints...
Стр. 185 - And some one came out of the cheers in the street, With a face pale as stone, to say something to me. My Guido was dead! I fell down at his feet, While they cheered in the street.
Стр. 141 - WHAT was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat • With the dragon-fly on the river? He tore out a reed, the great god Pan...
Стр. 25 - 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 feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Стр. 183 - Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east, And one of them shot in the west by the sea. Both ! both my boys ! If in keeping the feast You want a great song for your Italy free, Let none look at me...
Стр. 185 - At first, happy news came, in gay letters moiled With my kisses, — of camp-life and glory, and how They both loved me, and, soon coming home to be spoiled, In return would fan off every fly from my brow With their 'green laurel-bough. Then was triumph at Turin :
Стр. 35 - God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her!
Стр. 35 - There, in turn I stand with them and praise you — Out of my own self, I dare to phrase it. But the best is when I glide from out them, Cross a step or two of dubious twilight, Come out on the other side, the novel...
Стр. 141 - He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river: The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.
Стр. 184 - I was a poetess only last year, And good at my art, for a woman, men said ; But this woman, this, who is agonized here, — The east sea and west sea rhyme on in her head For ever instead.

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