by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Now by the verdure on thy thousand hills,
Beloved England, -- doth the earth appear
Perfect enough for men to overbear
The will of God in, with rebellious wills!
We cannot say the morning-sun fulfils
Ingloriously its course; nor that the clear
Strong stars, without significance, insphere
Our habitation. We, meantime, our ills,
Heap up against this good; and lift a cry
Against this work-day world, this ill-spread feast,
As if ourselves were better certainly
Than what we come to. Maker and High Priest,
I ask thee not my joys to multiply, --
Only to make me worthier of the least.


The Poems Of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Volume 1
Copyright 1853
C. S. Francis & Co., 262 Broadway, New York
Crosby & Nichols, Boston

Recommended Works

Grief - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Same (Twas then we said...) - Anne WhitneyAnd for that thou art Beauty, and thy name... - Anne WhitneyThe Human Seasons - John KeatsAdequacy - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour - John KeatsPain In Pleasure - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningFuturity - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningKeen Fitful Gusts Are Whispering Here And There - John KeatsOn The Sea - John KeatsC. L'E. - Anne WhitneyThe Passion Flower - Anne WhitneyFrom all these mounds, though day blows fresh and warm, - Anne WhitneyDarkness surrounds me with its phantom hosts... - Anne WhitneyWork And Contemplation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningAddressed To The Same - John KeatsStoop low, dear Night, a little star-breeze wakes - Anne WhitneyExaggeration - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo _. (Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs ...) - John KeatsTo Homer - John KeatsHow bravely Autumn paints upon the sky - Thomas HoodTo _. (Time's sea hath been five years at its low ebb, ...) - John KeatsWhy did I laugh to-night? - John KeatsContinence - Anne WhitneyPatience Taught By Nature - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningNo slight caprice rules thee. -- Who sounds one note... - Anne WhitneyTo A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses - John KeatsConsolation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningComfort (Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet ...) - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo The Spirit - Anne WhitneyOn Seeing The Elgin Marbles - John KeatsTo The Same - Anne WhitneyOn Receiving A Gift - Thomas HoodThe Meaning Of The Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningRead me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud - John KeatsWritten In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born - John KeatsI dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death... - Anne WhitneyYet are there sunbeams, though the kingly sun... - Anne WhitneyOn Leigh Hunt's Poem, The Story Of Rimini. - John KeatsOn A Portrait Of Wordsworth - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOf better fortune coming, then, talk not... - Anne WhitneyFalse Poets And True - Thomas HoodThe Soul's Expression - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo Kosciusko - John KeatsTo My Brother - John KeatsO high-born souls, such as God sends to mould... - Anne WhitneyHow many bards gild the lapses of time! - John KeatsTo George Sand: A Recognition - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningBereavement - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo Haydon - John KeatsAddressed To Haydon - John KeatsFor The Fourteenth Of February - Thomas HoodOn A Picture Of Leander - John KeatsWritten On The Day That Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison - John KeatsThe Two Sayings - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown. - John KeatsTo Ailsa Rock - John KeatsO solitude! if I must with thee dwell, - John KeatsWithin my life another life runs deep, - Anne WhitneyDiscontent - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTO G. A. W. - John KeatsTo An Enthusiast - Thomas HoodO fair mistrust of earth's more solid shows... - Anne WhitneyWhen I have fears that I may cease to be ... - John KeatsOn Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again. - John KeatsHappy is England! I could be content ... - John KeatsTo George Sand: A Desire - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn The Grasshopper And Cricket - John KeatsIn the still hours, a stiller strength was born - Anne WhitneyThe Prisoner - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...) - John KeatsThou seem'st to solve the eternal unity... - Anne WhitneyThree Flowers - Thomas Bailey AldrichIt is not death, that sometime in a sigh... - Thomas HoodTo The Nile - John KeatsA Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningNight - Anne WhitneyAn Apprehension - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningO night, a terrible dismay still lurks... - Anne WhitneyOn A Dream - John KeatsDark rolling clouds in wild confusion driven... - Caroline Bowles SoutheyAlas! and yesternight I woke in terror, - Anne WhitneyOn First Looking Into Chapman's Homer - John KeatsI cry your mercy -- pity -- love -- ay, love ... - John KeatsKeats's Last Sonnet - John KeatsPerplexed Music - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe world is with me, and its many cares... - Thomas HoodSonnet To A Sonnet - Thomas HoodO Mankind's God! most silent and most lowly - Anne WhitneyTo A Sleeping Child - Thomas HoodCheerfulness Taught By Reason - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo The Ocean - Thomas HoodTo Fancy - Thomas HoodWork (What are we set on earth for? ...) - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Fame (Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy ...). - John KeatsSubstitution - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningAnswer To A Sonnet Ending Thus: -- - John KeatsIrreparableness - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningLear - Thomas HoodBy every sweet tradition of true hearts,... - Thomas HoodSo reed-like fragile, in the world's whirl nought... - Anne WhitneyTo one who has been long in city pent, ... - John KeatsPast And Future - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Same (Might we make quest ...) - Anne WhitneyI know this spirit bridges unknown space... - Anne WhitneyTo J. H. Reynolds - John KeatsTo ____. (My heart is sick with longing, though I feed) - Thomas HoodAfter dark vapors have oppress'd our plains ... - John KeatsLargess from seven-fold heavens, I pray, descend... - Anne WhitneyTo Sleep - John KeatsInsufficiency - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Seraph And Poet - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, ... - John KeatsThe day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! ... - John KeatsThis pleasant tale is like a little copse: ... - John KeatsIf by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd ... - John KeatsTears - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo My Brother George - John Keats