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Praise is deeper than the lips

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
Lips
Deeper
Praise

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Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
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Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.
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Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
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There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!
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Good to forgive, Best to forget.
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Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
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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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A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
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I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on.
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The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.
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Look not down but up!
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Out of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it, -so you ignore, So you make perfect the present, condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense.
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Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
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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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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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Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
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Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
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With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
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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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All's love, yet all's law.
Robert Browning