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how sad and bad and mad it was - but then, how it was sweet

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
Mad
Reflection
Sweet
Nostalgia

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Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
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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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That's the wise thrush he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
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You never know what life means till you die even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.
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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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The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head.
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Who knows most, doubts most entertaining hope means recognizing fear.
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A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
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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.
Robert Browning
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All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower.
Robert Browning
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Never brag, never bluster, never blush.
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Praise is deeper than the lips
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Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
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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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There are those who believe something, and therefore will tolerate nothing and on the other hand, those who tolerate everything, because they believe nothing.
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Faultless to a fault.
Robert Browning
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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.
Robert Browning
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Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.
Robert Browning
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Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
Robert Browning