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A man in armor is his armor's slave.

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
Armor
Slave
Men

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Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.
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Other heights in other lives, God willing.
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In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity
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Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
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Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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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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Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
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One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.
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Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!
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Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
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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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The heavens and earth stay as they were my heart Beats as it beat: the truth remains the truth.
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Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
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I do what many dream of, all their lives
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He who did well in war just earns the right, To begin doing well in peace.
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The past is gained, secure, and on record.
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How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
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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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