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And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.
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
Though
White
Hands
Stills
Still
Spotted
Lilies
Pulled
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The critics could never mortify me out of heart - because I love poetry for its own sake, - and, tho' with no stoicism and some ambition, care more for my poems than for my poetic reputation.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Every wish Is like a prayer--with God.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Where Christ brings His cross He brings His presence and where He is none are desolate, and there is no room for despair.
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
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.
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
There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The large white owl that with eye is blind, That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow, Is carried away in a gust of wind.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood, The holy name of Grief--holy herein, That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
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
As the moths around a taper, As the bees around a rose, As the gnats around a vapour, So the spirits group and close Round about a holy childhood, as if drinking its repose.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
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
