Grief by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
…Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
…In souls as countries lieth silent-bare
…Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death –
…Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watching and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dusts beneath.
…Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.

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A Woman’s Shortcomings by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

She has laughed as softly as if she sighed,
…She has counted six and over,
Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried –
…Oh each a worthy lover!
They “give her time”; for her soul must slip
…Where the world has set the grooving:
She will lie to none with her fair red lip –
…But love seeks truer loving.

She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb,
…As her thoughts were beyond recalling,
With a glance for one, and a glance for some,
…For her eyelids rising and falling;
Speaks common words with a blushful air,
…Hears bold words, unreproving
But her silence says – what she never will swear –
…And love seeks better loving.

Go, lady, lean to the night-guitar,
…And drop a smile to the bringer,
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
…At the voice of an indoor singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes;
…Glance lightly on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries –
…But dare not call it loving.

Unless you can think, when the song is done,
…No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by one,
…That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,
…That your beauty itself wants proving;
Unless you can swear, “For life, for death!” –
…Oh fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day,
…On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love, as the angels may,
…With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
…Through behoving and unbehoving;
Unless you can die when the dream is past –
…Oh never call it loving!

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Out In The Fields With God by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

Out In The Fields With God

The little cares that fretted me
…I lost them yesterday,
Among the fields, above the sea,
…Among the winds at play;
Among the lowing of the herds,
…The rustling of the trees;
Among the singing of the birds,
…The humming of the bees.
The foolish fears of what may happen,
…I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass,
…Among the new-mown hay;
Among the rustling of the corn,
…Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born –
…Out in the fields with God.

 

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The Meaning Of The Look by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

……..The Meaning Of The Look

I think that look of Christ might seem to say,
“Thou Peter! Art thou then a common stone
Which I at last must break my heart upon,
For all God’s charge to his high angels may
Guard my foot better?  Did I yesterday
Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run
Quick to deny me ‘neath the morning sun?
And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?
The cock crows coldly. – Go, and manifest
A late contrition, but no bootless fear!
For when thy final need is dreariest,
Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here;
My voice to God and angels shall attest,
‘Because I KNOW this man, let him be clear.’”

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A Year’s Spinning by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

…….A Year’s Spinning

He listened at the porch that day
…To hear the wheels go on, and on;
And then it stopped, ran back away,
…While through the door he brought the sun:
…But now my spinning is all done.

He sat beside me, with an oath
…That love ne’er ended, once begun;
I smiled – believing for us both,
…What was the truth for only one:
…And now my spinning is all done.

My mother cursed me that I heard
…A young man’s wooing as I spun:
Thanks, cruel mother, for that word –
…For I have, since, a harder known!
…And now my spinning is all done.

I thought – O God! – my first-born’s cry
…Both voices to mine ear would drown:
I listened in mine agony –
…It was the silence made me groan!
…And now my spinning is all done.

Bury me ‘twixt my mother’s grave,
…(Who cursed me on her death-bed lone)
And my dead baby’s (God it save!)
…Who, not to bless me, would not moan.
…And now my spinning I all done.

A stone upon my heart and head,
…But no name written on the stone!
Sweet neighbors, whisper low instead,
…“This sinner was a loving one –
…And now her spinning is all done.”

And let the door ajar remain,
…In case he should pass by anon;
And leave the wheel out very plain, –
…That HE, when passing in the sun,
…May see the spinning is all done.

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How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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.
I love thee to the level of everyday’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
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.

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