Skip to content

Quotes from Poems — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

1806–1861 England

← All quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

18 quotes

There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o’ the world; oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time!

Poems (1844)

Thou large-brained woman and large-hearted man.

Poems (1844)

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers—
And that cannot stop their tears.

Poems (1844)

Knowledge by suffering entereth,
And life is perfected by death.

Poems (1844)

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.

Poems (1844)

O the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west.

Poems (1844)

And kings crept out again to feel the sun.

Poems (1844)

But since he had
The genius to be loved, why let him have
The justice to be honoured in his grave.

Poems (1844)

Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which, if cut deep down the middle,
Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.

Poems (1844)

And the rolling anapaestic
Curled, like vapour over shrines!

Poems (1844)

And lips say, "God be pitiful,"
Who ne’er said, "God be praised."

Poems (1844)

And Chaucer, with his infantine
Familiar clasp of things divine.

Poems (1844)

Therefore to this dog will I,
Tenderly not scornfully,
Render praise and favour!
With my hand upon his head,
Is my benediction said
Therefore, and for ever.

Poems (1844)

Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low,
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.

Poems (1844)

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben,
Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when
The world was worthy of such men.

Poems (1844)

Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy dead in silence like to death;
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe,
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it: the marble eyelids are not wet—
If it could weep, it could arise and go.

Poems (1844)

And that dismal cry rose slowly,
And sank slowly through the air;
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heard the words it said,—
Pan is dead—Great Pan is dead—
Pan, Pan is dead.

Poems (1844)

And I said in underbreath —
All our life is mixed with death, —
And who knoweth which is best?
And I smiled to think God's greatness
Flowed around our incompleteness, —
Round our restlessness, His rest.

Poems (1844)

Attribution

Quotes and notes from Wikiquote: Elizabeth Barrett Browning (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0.