by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Light human nature is too lightly tost
And ruffled without cause; complaining on --
Restless with rest -- until, being overthrown,
It learneth to lie quiet. Let a frost
Or a small wasp have crept to the innermost
Of our ripe peach; or let the wilful sun
Shine westward of our window -- straight we run
A furlong's sigh, as if the world were lost.
But what time through the heart and through the brain
God hath transfixed us, -- we, so moved before,
Attain to a calm. Ay, shouldering weights of pain,
We anchor in deep waters, safe from shore;
And hear, submissive, o'er the stormy main,
God's chartered judgments walk for evermore.


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

Recommended Works

I dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death... - Anne WhitneyIf by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd ... - John KeatsFalse Poets And True - Thomas HoodTo My Brother George - John KeatsAn Apprehension - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningNight - Anne WhitneyThis pleasant tale is like a little copse: ... - John KeatsYet are there sunbeams, though the kingly sun... - Anne WhitneyTo Homer - John KeatsOn Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again. - John KeatsThou seem'st to solve the eternal unity... - Anne WhitneyTo An Enthusiast - Thomas HoodConsolation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo George Sand: A Desire - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningAfter dark vapors have oppress'd our plains ... - John KeatsWhen I have fears that I may cease to be ... - John KeatsThe Same (Twas then we said...) - Anne WhitneyDiscontent - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Receiving A Gift - Thomas HoodFrom all these mounds, though day blows fresh and warm, - Anne WhitneyO Mankind's God! most silent and most lowly - Anne WhitneyHappy is England! 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(My heart is sick with longing, though I feed) - Thomas HoodIn the still hours, a stiller strength was born - Anne WhitneyFor The Fourteenth Of February - Thomas HoodTo Kosciusko - John KeatsKeats's Last Sonnet - John KeatsTo The Nile - John KeatsPain In Pleasure - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningO fair mistrust of earth's more solid shows... - Anne WhitneyOn Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...) - John KeatsTo _. (Time's sea hath been five years at its low ebb, ...) - John KeatsPerplexed Music - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningLargess from seven-fold heavens, I pray, descend... - Anne WhitneySonnet To A Sonnet - Thomas HoodRead me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud - John KeatsOn A Picture Of Leander - John KeatsDark rolling clouds in wild confusion driven... - Caroline Bowles SoutheyOn First Looking Into Chapman's Homer - John KeatsAnd for that thou art Beauty, and thy name... - Anne WhitneyPast And Future - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningC. L'E. - Anne WhitneyTo A Sleeping Child - Thomas HoodOn A Dream - John KeatsAddressed To Haydon - John KeatsOn Seeing The Elgin Marbles - John KeatsTO G. A. W. - John KeatsThe Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningDarkness surrounds me with its phantom hosts... - Anne WhitneyInsufficiency - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningWritten In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born - John KeatsTo J. H. Reynolds - John KeatsTo Haydon - John KeatsThe Human Seasons - John KeatsOn A Portrait Of Wordsworth - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningIrreparableness - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Prisoner - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Seraph And Poet - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThree Flowers - Thomas Bailey AldrichTo George Sand: A Recognition - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningWhy did I laugh to-night? - John KeatsA Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Passion Flower - Anne Whitney
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