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When the liquor's out, why clink the cannikin?

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
Liquor
Drinking

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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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Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
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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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The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
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To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
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Our aspirations are our responsibilities.
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Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before Love, - Only sleep.
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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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No, when the fight begins within himself, / A man's worth something.
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God smiles as He has always smiled Ere suns and moons could wax and wane, Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled The Heavens, God thought on me His child Ordained a life for me, arrayed Its circumstances, every one To the minutest ay, God said This head this hand should rest upon Thus, ere He fashioned star or sun.
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There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!
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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.
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The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.
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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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Who knows most, doubts most.
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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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One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.
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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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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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The great mind knows the power of gentleness.
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