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I wish I were the lily's leaf To fade upon that bosom warm, Content to wither, pale and brief, The trophy of thy paler form.
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
Pale
Trophies
Content
Lilies
Warm
Bosoms
Upon
Fade
Paler
Wish
Leafs
Trophy
Form
Leaf
Lily
Brief
Wither
Fades
Bosom
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, Write!
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Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.
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If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me?
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Or from Browning some Pomegranate, which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.
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And I must bear What is ordained with patience, being aware Necessity doth front the universe With an invincible gesture.
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And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.
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There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o' the world oh, eyes sublime With tears and laughter for all time!
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Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.
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A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest.
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The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.
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The plague of gold strikes far and near.
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Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.
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When God helps all the workers for His world, The singers shall have help of Him, not last.
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I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.
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An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.
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And there my little doves did sit With feathers softly brown And glittering eyes that showed their right To general Nature's deep delight.
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There are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.
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I love you for the part of me that you bring out.
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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.
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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.
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