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Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!

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
Love
Hated
Loved
Justice
Tell
Wells
Might
Well

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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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But there are times when patience proves at fault.
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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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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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Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
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Look not down but up!
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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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Day! Faster and more fast. O'er night's brim, day boils at last.
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All we have gained then by our unbelief Is a life of doubt diversified by faith, For one of faith diversified by doubt: We called the chess-board white-we call it black.
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There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!
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Truth is truth howe'er it strike.
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My care is for myself Myself am whole and sole reality.
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It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
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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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Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.
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The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
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Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
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Other heights in other lives, God willing.
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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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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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