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She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Age: 55 †
Born: 1806
Born: March 6
Died: 1861
Died: June 30
Essayist
Pamphleteer
Poet
Screenwriter
Translator
Durham
England
Mrs. Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Barrett
Elizabeth Barrett-Browning
Elizaveta Barrett Brauning
Egypt
Pale
Mystery
Close
Seen
Pyramid
Eyelids
Pyramids
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Get work, get work Be sure 'tis better than what you work to get.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,And placed it by thee on a golden throne,-- And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)Is by thee only, whom I love alone.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Love that endures, from life that disappears!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane but is not the fruit of pain.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
May the good God pardon all good men.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I, who thought to sink, was caught up into love, and taught the whole of life in a new rhythm.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sleep on, Baby, on the floor, Tired of all the playing, Sleep with smile the sweeter for That you dropped away in! On your curls' full roundness stand Golden lights serenely-- One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Folds the dimple inly.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And yet, because I love thee, I obtain From that same love this vindicating grace, To live on still in love, and yet in vain
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I love you for the part of me that you bring out.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sing, seraph with the glory! heaven is high. Sing, poet with the sorrow! earth is low. The universe's inward voices cry Amen to either song of joy and woe. Sing, seraph, poet! sing on equally!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Books succeed and lives fail.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
For me, my heart, that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose, Who giveth His Beloved, sleep.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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 veins, distorted joints, Or beautiful new cases of curved spine While we, we are shocked at nature's falling off, We dare to shrink back from her warts and blains.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
For 'Tis not in mere death that men die most.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Who can fear Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll- Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear, To love me also in silence, with thy soul.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
