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

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