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And let them pass, as they will too soon, With the bean-flowers' boon, And the blackbird's tune, And May, and June!
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
Flowers
Blackbird
Pass
Blackbirds
Summer
Bean
Soon
Boon
Flower
Beans
May
June
Tune
Tunes
More quotes by Robert Browning
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
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What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
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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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Good to forgive, Best to forget.
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Best be yourself, imperial, plain, and true.
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Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
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If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
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Our aspirations are our responsibilities.
Robert Browning
The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!
Robert Browning
Most progress is most failure.
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Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet. From the ripple to run over in its mirth
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O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.
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Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
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All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.
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Shun death, is my advice.
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All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!
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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.
Robert Browning
Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
Robert Browning
All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.
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A man in armor is his armor's slave.
Robert Browning