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For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.

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
Comes
Manifest
Death
Gain
Light
Gains
Made
Lack
Men
Ignorance
Love
Loss
Darkness
Knowledge
Sole

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Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.
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Other heights in other lives, God willing.
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Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
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Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
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Truth is within ourselves.
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Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!
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And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.
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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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What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
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Ignorance is not innocence but sin.
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Sorrow, the heart must bear, Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there. Many a circumstance, at least, Touches the very breast. For those Whom any sent away,--he knows: And in the live man's stead, Armor and ashes reach The house of each.
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White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so life's business being just the terrible choice.
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Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain
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Good to forgive, Best to forget.
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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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The past is gained, secure, and on record.
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Mid the sharp, short emerald wheat, scarce risen three fingers well, The wild tulip at the end of its tube, blows out its great red bell, Like a thin clear bubble of blood, for the children to pick and sell.
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Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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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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