by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I have been in the meadows all the day,
And gathered there the nosegay that you see;
Singing within myself as bird or bee,
When such do field-work on a morn of May:
But now I look upon my flowers, -- decay
Hath met them in my hands, more fatally,
Because more warmly clasped; and sobs are free
To come instead of songs. What do you say,
Sweet counsellors, dear friends? that I should go
Back straightway to the fields, and gather more?
Another, sooth, may do it, -- but not I:
My heart is very tired -- my strength is low --
My hands are full of blossoms plucked before,
Held dead within them till myself shall die.


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

Recommended Works

On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again. - John KeatsWithin my life another life runs deep, - Anne WhitneyHappy is England! I could be content ... - John KeatsTo My Brother - John KeatsTo An Enthusiast - Thomas HoodOn A Picture Of Leander - John KeatsIrreparableness - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn The Sea - John KeatsThe Soul's Expression - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn First Looking Into Chapman's Homer - John KeatsThe Two Sayings - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Same (Might we make quest ...) - Anne WhitneyTo J. H. 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(Time's sea hath been five years at its low ebb, ...) - John KeatsOn Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...) - John KeatsOn A Portrait Of Wordsworth - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo A Sleeping Child - Thomas HoodNo slight caprice rules thee. -- Who sounds one note... - Anne WhitneySubstitution - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo The Spirit - Anne WhitneyO solitude! if I must with thee dwell, - John KeatsI dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death... - Anne WhitneyRead me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud - John KeatsTo one who has been long in city pent, ... - John KeatsIt is not death, that sometime in a sigh... - Thomas HoodTears - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningA Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo _. (Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs ...) - John KeatsOn A Dream - John KeatsCheerfulness Taught By Reason - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningDarkness surrounds me with its phantom hosts... - Anne WhitneyAnd for that thou art Beauty, and thy name... - Anne WhitneyThe world is with me, and its many cares... - Thomas HoodPatience Taught By Nature - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningContinence - Anne WhitneyTo George Sand: A Desire - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningWritten In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born - John KeatsTo The Ocean - Thomas HoodO Mankind's God! most silent and most lowly - Anne WhitneyOn Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour - John KeatsTO G. A. W. - John KeatsTo A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses - John KeatsThe day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! ... - John KeatsThe Seraph And Poet - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo ____. (My heart is sick with longing, though I feed) - Thomas HoodInsufficiency - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Prisoner - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Same (Twas then we said...) - Anne WhitneyAlas! and yesternight I woke in terror, - Anne WhitneyFor The Fourteenth Of February - Thomas HoodTo Homer - John KeatsTo Haydon - John KeatsO high-born souls, such as God sends to mould... - Anne WhitneyOn Leigh Hunt's Poem, The Story Of Rimini. - John KeatsLargess from seven-fold heavens, I pray, descend... - Anne WhitneyI cry your mercy -- pity -- love -- ay, love ... - John KeatsThe Passion Flower - Anne WhitneyOf better fortune coming, then, talk not... - Anne WhitneyFalse Poets And True - Thomas HoodExaggeration - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningYet are there sunbeams, though the kingly sun... - Anne WhitneyWhy did I laugh to-night? - John KeatsAdequacy - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningSonnet To A Sonnet - Thomas HoodWork And Contemplation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningLear - Thomas HoodFrom all these mounds, though day blows fresh and warm, - Anne WhitneyTo Fancy - Thomas HoodOn The Grasshopper And Cricket - John KeatsAnswer To A Sonnet Ending Thus: -- - John KeatsTo George Sand: A Recognition - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, ... - John KeatsConsolation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Seeing The Elgin Marbles - John KeatsAddressed To The Same - John Keats