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The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
Robert Browning
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Robert Browning
Age: 77 †
Born: 1812
Born: May 7
Died: 1889
Died: December 12
Dramaturgy
Playwright
Poet
Writer
London
England
Robert Barrett Browning
Browning
Breaks
Sea
Strength
Land
Heaves
Break
Buries
Tumultuous
Hangs
Loaded
More quotes by Robert Browning
Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
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For the preacher's merit or demerit, It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer In the earthen vessel, holding treasure, But the main thing is, does it hold good measure Heaven soon sets right all other matters!
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God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.
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Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity These are its sign and note and character.
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Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!
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No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold.
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Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'
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Who knows most, doubts most.
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Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.
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But there are times when patience proves at fault.
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A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
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Mid the sharp, short emerald wheat, scarce risen three fingers well, The wild tulip at the end of its tube, blows out its great red bell, Like a thin clear bubble of blood, for the children to pick and sell.
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I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
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Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
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A minute's success pays the failure of years.
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If you can sit at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done And counting find oneself-denying act, one word That eased the heart of him that heard. One glance most kind, Which fell like sunshine where he went, Then you may count that day well spent.
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Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.
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One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
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What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
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