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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
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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
Holy
Round
Spirit
Rounds
Taper
Around
Drinking
Gnats
Rose
Vapour
Group
Moths
Childhood
Repose
Close
Bees
Groups
Spirits
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Light tomorrow with today!
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Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
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World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane but is not the fruit of pain.
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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.
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Whatever's lost, it first was won.
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Behold me! I am worthy Of thy loving, for I love thee!
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O rose, who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet, But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat, Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
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The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.
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O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road Singing beside the hedge.
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I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candle light...I love thee with the breath,smiles,t ears,of all my life.
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OF writing many books there is no end And I who have written much in prose and verse For others' uses, will write now for mine,- Will write my story for my better self, As when you paint your portrait for a friend, Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it Long after he has ceased to love you, just To hold together what he was and is.
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If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.
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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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Death forerunneth Love to win Sweetest eyes were ever seen.
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Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
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The plague of gold strikes far and near.
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Thou large-brain'd woman and large-hearted man.
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Too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun.
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Since when was genius found respectable?
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The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.
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