Robert Browning

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1. To Robert Browning There is delight in singing, though none hear Beside the singer; and there is delight In praising, though the praiser sits alone And see the praised far off him, far above. Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world’s, Therefore on him no speech! and brief for thee, Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale […]...
2. On the Death of Robert Browning He held no dream worth waking; so he said, He who stands now on death’s triumphal steep, Awakened out of life wherein we sleep And dream of what he knows and sees, being dead. But never death for him was dark or dread; “Look forth,” he bade the soul, and fear not. Weep, All ye […]...
3. Elizabeth Barrett Browning Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sat gossiping with Robert. (She was really a raving beauty in her day. With Mary Pickford curls in clouds and whirls.) She was trying to think of something nice to say, So she pointed to a page by her fellow star and sage, And said: “I wish that I could write that […]...
4. 231. Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintry WHEN Nature her great master-piece design’d, And fram’d her last, best work, the human mind, Her eye intent on all the mazy plan, She form’d of various parts the various Man. Then first she calls the useful many forth; Plain plodding Industry, and sober Worth: Thence peasants, farmers, native sons of earth, And merchandise’ whole […]...
5. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
6. The Miraculous Escape of Robert Allan, the Fireman ‘Twas in the year of 1858, and on October the fourteenth day, That a fire broke out in a warehouse, and for hours blazed away; And the warehouse, now destroyed, was occupied by the Messrs R. Wylie, Hill & Co., Situated in Buchanan Street, in the City of Glasgow. The flames burst forth about three […]...
7. 351. Second Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintry LATE crippl’d of an arm, and now a leg, About to beg a pass for leave to beg; Dull, listless, teas’d, dejected, and deprest (Nature is adverse to a cripple’s rest); Will generous Graham list to his Poet’s wail? (It soothes poor Misery, hearkening to her tale) And hear him curse the light he first […]...
8. Elijah Browning I was among multitudes of children Dancing at the foot of a mountain. A breeze blew out of the east and swept them as leaves, Driving some up the slopes…. All was changed. Here were flying lights, and mystic moons, and dream-music. A cloud fell upon us. When it lifted all was changed. I was […]...
9. Browning Decides To Be A Poet in these red labyrinths of London I find that I have chosen The strangest of all callings, Save that, in its way, any calling is strange. Like the alchemist Who sought the philosopher’s stone In quicksilver, I shall make everyday words The gambler’s marked cards, the common coin Give off the magic that was their […]...
10. Robert William Service – Laughter I Laugh at Life: its antics make for me a giddy games, Where only foolish fellows take themselves with solemn aim. I laugh at pomp and vanity, at riches, rank and pride; At social inanity, at swager, swank and side. At poets, pastry-cooks and kings, at folk sublime and small, Who fuss about a thousand […]...
11. In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory I Now that we’re almost settled in our house I’ll name the friends that cannot sup with us Beside a fire of turf in th’ ancient tower, And having talked to some late hour Climb up the narrow winding stair to bed: Discoverers of forgotten truth Or mere companions of my youth, All, all are […]...
12. 202. On the Death of Robert Dundas, Esq., of Arniston LONE on the bleaky hills the straying flocks Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks; Down from the rivulets, red with dashing rains, The gathering floods burst o’er the distant plains; Beneath the blast the leafless forests groan; The hollow caves return a hollow moan. Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests, and ye caves, […]...
13. The Apparitions Because there is safety in derision I talked about an apparition, I took no trouble to convince, Or seem plausible to a man of sense. Distrustful of thar popular eye Whether it be bold or sly. Fifteen apparitions have I seen; The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger. I have found nothing half so good […]...
14. The Copernican System The Sun revolving on his axis turns, And with creative fire intensely burns; Impell’d by forcive air, our Earth supreme, Rolls with the planets round the solar gleam. First Mercury completes his transient year, Glowing, refulgent, with reflected glare; Bright Venus occupies a wider way, The early harbinger of night and day; More distant still […]...
15. The Everlasting Battle WHEN in my shadowy hours I pierce the hidden heart of hopes and fears, They change into immortal joys or end in immemorial tears. Moytura’s battle still endures and in this human heart of mine The golden sun powers with the might of demon darkness intertwine. I think that every teardrop shed still flows from […]...
16. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
17. 5.7 I don’t care if you are you and I am I. I am not some exotic flower. Whatever coat you have on, I will put it on to warm me… and the shoes however small… I will walk in them to balance our height difference. You don’t need to convert for me; I have already […]...
18. To Robert Nichols (From Frise on the Somme in February, 1917, in answer to a letter saying: “I am just finishing my ‘Faun’s Holiday.’ I wish you were here to feed him with cherries.”) Here by a snowbound river In scrapen holes we shiver, And like old bitterns we Boom to you plaintively: Robert, how can I rhyme […]...
19. Robert Davidson I grew spiritually fat living off the souls of men. If I saw a soul that was strong I wounded its pride and devoured its strength. The shelters of friendship knew my cunning, For where I could steal a friend I did so. And wherever I could enlarge my power By undermining ambition, I did […]...
20. Robert Burns Immortal Robert Burns of Ayr, There’s but few poets can with you compare; Some of your poems and songs are very fine: To “Mary in Heaven” is most sublime; And then again in your “Cottar’s Saturday Night,” Your genius there does shine most bright, As pure as the dewdrops of the night. Your “Tam O’Shanter” […]...
21. Robert Fulton Tanner If a man could bite the giant hand That catchs and destroys him, As I was bitten by a rat While demonstrating my patent trap, In my hardware store that day. But a man can never avenge himself On the monstrous ogre Life. You enter the room-that’s being born; And then you must live-work out […]...
22. The Voice of Robert Desnos So like a flower and a current of air The flow of water fleeting shadows The smile glimpsed at midnight this excellent evening So like every joy and every sadness It is the midnight past lifting its naked body above belfries and poplars I call to me those lost in the fields Old skeletons young […]...
23. Robert Southey Burke I spent my money trying to elect you Mayor A. D. Blood. I lavished my admiration upon you, You were to my mind the almost perfect man. You devoured my personality, And the idealism of my youth, And the strength of a high-souled fealty. And all my hopes for the world, And all my beliefs […]...
24. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
25. Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine Who doesn’t love Roses, and who Doesn’t love the lilies Of the black ponds Floating like flocks Of tiny swans, And of course, the flaming Trumpet vine Where the hummingbird comes Like a small green angel, to soak His dark tongue In happiness – And who doesn’t want To live with the brisk Motor of […]...
26. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
27. Sailing To Byzantium I That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees – Those dying generations – at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing […]...
28. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
29. On The Death Of Mr. Robert Levet, A Practiser In Physic CONDEMN’D to Hope’s delusive mine, As on we toil from day to day, By sudden blasts or slow decline Our social comforts drop away. Well tried through many a varying year, See Levet to the grave descend, Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend. Yet still he fills affection’s eye, Obscurely wise and […]...
30. 431. Song-Robert Bruce's March to Bannockburn SCOTS, wha hae wi’ WALLACE bled, Scots, wham BRUCE has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to Victorie! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour; See the front o’ battle lour; See approach proud EDWARD’S power- Chains and Slaverie! Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward’s grave? Wha sae […]...
31. 459. Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddell NO more, ye warblers of the wood! no more; Nor pour your descant grating on my soul; Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole, More welcome were to me grim Winter’s wildest roar. How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes? Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend! How can […]...
32. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car Pink robes, and wavy hair, and […]...
33. Fahr an' Ice, Apologies to Robert Frost From what I know of death, I’ll side with those Who’d like to have a say in how it goes: Just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker), And real fahr off, instead of quicker. Originally published by Light Quarterly...
34. Lord Robert's Triumphal Entry into Pretoria ‘Twas in the year of 1900, and on the 5th of June, Lord Roberts entered Pretoria in the afternoon; His triumphal entry was magnificent to see, The British Army marching behind him fearlessly. With their beautiful banners unfurled to the breeze, But the scene didn’t the Boers please; And they immediately made some show of […]...
35. Adventures of King Robert the Bruce King Robert the Bruce’s deadly enemy, John of Lorn, Joined the English with eight hundred Highlanders one morn, All strong, hardy, and active fearless mountaineers, But Bruce’s men attacked them with swords and spears. And while they were engaged, a new enemy burst upon them, Like a torrent of water rushing down a rocky glen: […]...
36. On The Death Of Sir Rowland Cotton Seconding That Of Sir Robert More Cottons yet? O let not envious Fate Attempt the Ruine of our growing State. O had it spar’d Sir Rowland, then might wee Have almost spar’d Sir Robert’s Library. His Life and th’ others bookes taught but the same; Death kils us twice in blotting twice one Name. Give Him, and take those Reliques […]...
37. 66. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux NOW Robin 1 lies in his last lair, He’ll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair; Cauld poverty, wi’ hungry stare, Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, E’er mair come near him. To tell the truth, they seldom fash’d him, Except the moment that they crush’d him; For sune as chance […]...
38. To Robert Batty, M. D., on His Giving Me a Lock of Milton's Hair It lies before me there, and my own breath Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside The living head I stood in honoured pride, Talking of lovely things that conquer death. Perhaps he pressed it once, or underneath Ran his fine fingers when he leant, blank-eyed, And saw in fancy Adam and his bride […]...
39. Goddess In The Wood, The In a flowered dell the Lady Venus stood, Amazed with sorrow. Down the morning one Far golden horn in the gold of trees and sun Rang out; and held; and died. . . . She thought the wood Grew quieter. Wing, and leaf, and pool of light Forgot to dance. Dumb lay the unfalling stream; […]...
40. 1887 From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills are bright, The dales are light between, Because ’tis fifty years to-night That God has saved the Queen. Now, when the flame they watch not […]...