First Lines of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A thought lay like a flower upon mine heart,ALL are not taken! there are left behindAnd, O beloved voices, upon whichEve is a twofold mystery --Experience, like a pale musician, holdsHe dwelt alone, and, sun and moon,I classed, appraising once,I count the dismal time by months and years,I have been in the meadows all the day,I stand by the river where both of us stood,I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless --I think that look of Christ might seem to say --I think we are too ready with complaintI would build a cloudy HouseIf all the gentlest-hearted friends I knowIf God compel thee to this destiny,In death-sheets lieth Rosalind,Light human nature is too lightly tostMy future will not copy fair my pastNow by the verdure on thy thousand hills,O dreary life! we cry, O dreary life!Sleep, little babe, on my knee,Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweetSweet, thou hast trod on a heart.Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer notThe poet oped his bolted door,The poet's vow was inly sworn --The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word --The seraph sings before the manifestThe woman singeth at her spinning-wheelThou large-brained woman and large-hearted man,True genius, but true woman! dost denyTwo sayings of the Holy Scriptures beatWe are borne into life -- it is sweet, it is strange!We overstate the ills of life, and takeWhat are we set on earth for? Say, to toil --When I attain to utter forth in verseWhen some beloved voice that was to youWhen some Beloveds, 'neath whose eyelids layWhich is the weakest thing of allWith stammering lips and insufficient sound,Wordsworth upon Helvellyn! Let the cloudYou love all, you say,
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