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Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her

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
Trouble
Fear
Next
Find
Nothing
Shalt
Heart
Thou
Time
Behinds
Behind

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The heavens and earth stay as they were my heart Beats as it beat: the truth remains the truth.
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Imperfection means perfection hid.
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Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.
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Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
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I say, the acknowledgment of God in ChristAccepted by thy reason, solves for theeAll questions in the earth and out of it,And has so far advanced thee to be wise.
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Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?
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To do good things in the world, first you must know who you are and what gives meaning to your life.
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When the liquor's out, why clink the cannikin?
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The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.
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Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
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Who knows most, doubts most.
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The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.
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Then welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain Learn, nor account the pang dare, never grudge the throe!
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Of power does Man possess no particle: Of knowledge-just so much as show that still It ends in ignorance on every side.
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The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
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I want to know a butcher paints, A baker rhymes for his pursuit, Candlestick-maker much acquaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, Blows out his brains upon the flute.
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Lofty designs must close in like effects.
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Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
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O never star Was lost here We all aspire to heaven and there is heaven Above us. If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time I press God's lamp Close to my breast its splendor soon or late Will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.
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Hatred and cark and care, what place have they / In yon blue liberality of heaven?.
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