The poetical works of Robert Browning, Volumen6

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Página 105 - That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man's amount: Thoughts hardly to be packed Into a narrow act, Fancies that broke through language and escaped ; All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped. Ay,
Página 151 - For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute 's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest 1
Página 225 - s the need of Temple, when the walls O' the world are that ? What use of swells and falls From Levites' choir, Priests' cries, and trumpet-calls ? XII. That one Face, far from vanish, rather grows, Or decomposes but to recompose, Become my universe that feels and knows
Página 99 - VI. Then, welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go ! Be our joys three-parts pain ! Strive, and hold cheap the strain
Página 95 - Doubt that Thy power can fill the heart that Thy power expands ? There shall never be one lost good ! What was, shall live as before ; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;
Página 104 - work," must sentence pass, Things done, that took the eye and had the price; O'er which, from level stand, The low world laid its hand, Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice
Página 136 - Thinketh, He made thereat the sun, this isle, Trees and the fowls here, beast and creeping thing. Yon otter, sleek-wet, black, lithe as a leech; Yon auk, one fire-eye in a ball of foam, That floats and feeds; a. certain badger brown He hath watched hunt with that slant white-wedge
Página 153 - No harm ! It was not my fault If you never turned your eyes' tail up As I shook upon E in alt., Or ran the chromatic scale up: For spring bade the sparrows pair, And the boys and girls gave guesses, And stalls in our street looked rare With bulrush and watercresses.
Página 96 - And I blunt it into a ninth, and I stand on alien ground, Surveying awhile the heights I rolled from into the deep; Which, hark, I have dared and done, for my resting-place is found, The C Major of this life: so, now I will try to sleep.
Página 103 - To man, with soul just nerved To act to-morrow what he learns to-day : Here, work enough to watch The Master work, and catch Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play.

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