Quote

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?

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
Enjoy
Forcing
Force
Employ
Earth
Dues
Better
Eternity
Done
Creatures
Pent
Make
Teach
Nought
Would
Break
Feat
Time
Heaven
Feats

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No, when the fight begins within himself, / A man's worth something.
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The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
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Wander at will, Day after day,-- Wander away, Wandering still-- Soul that canst soar! Body may slumber: Body shall cumber Soul-flight no more.
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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!
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Our aspirations are our responsibilities.
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As is your sort of mind, So is your sort of search: You will find what you desire.
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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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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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O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.
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Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
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Imperfection means perfection hid.
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The past is gained, secure, and on record.
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The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.
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The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
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Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.
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I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
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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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Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!
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God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.
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How he lies in his rights of a man! Death has done all death can. And absorbed in the new life he leads, He recks not, he heeds Nor his wrong nor my vengeance both strike On his senses alike, And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change.
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