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How Strange Now, Looks The Life He Makes Us Lead; So Free We Seem, So Fettered Fast We Are!

-Robert Browning

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How Strange Now, Looks

Robert Browning

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How Strange Now, Looks The Life He Makes Us Lead; So Free We Seem, So Fettered Fast We Are!

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I Am Grown Peaceful As Old Age Tonight.

Ambition Is Not What Man Does... But What Man Would Do.

I Judge People By What They Might Be, - Not Are, Nor Will Be.

How Strange Now, Looks The Life He Makes Us Lead; So Free We Seem, So Fettered Fast We Are!

On The Earth The Broken Arcs; In The Heaven A Perfect Round.

What A Name! Was It Love Or Praise? Speech Half-asleep Or Song Half-awake? I Must Learn Spanish, One Of These Days, Only For That Slow Sweet Name's Sake.

To Me At Least Was Never Evening Yet, But Seemed Far Beautifuller Than Its Day.

God Is The Perfect Poet, Who In His Person Acts His Own Creations.

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!

Believeth With The Life, The Pain Shall Stop.

Where The Apple Reddens Never Pry - Lest We Lose Our Edens, Eve And I.

Sorrow, The Heart Must Bear, Sits In The Home Of Each, Conspicuous There. Many A Circumstance, At Least, Touches The Very Breast. For Those Whom Any Sent Away,--he Knows: And In The Live Man's Stead, Armor And Ashes Reach The House Of Each.

I Do What Many Dream Of, All Their Lives

Outside Are The Storms And Strangers: We — Oh, Close, Safe, Warm Sleep I And She, — I And She!

Make No More Giants, God!but Elevate The Race At Once!

Brightest Truth, Purest Trust In The Universe, All Were For Me, In The Kiss Of One Girl.

Hand Grasps At Hand, Eye Lights Eye In Good Friendship, And Great Hearts Expand And Grow One In The Sense Of This World's Life.

How He Lies In His Rights Of A Man! Death Has Done All Death Can. And Absorbed In The New Life He Leads, He Recks Not, He Heeds Nor His Wrong Nor My Vengeance; Both Strike On His Senses Alike, And Are Lost In The Solemn And Strange Surprise Of The Change.

O Never Star Was Lost; Here We All Aspire To Heaven And There Is Heaven Above Us. If I Stoop Into A Dark Tremendous Sea Of Cloud, It Is But For A Time; I Press God's Lamp Close To My Breast; Its Splendor Soon Or Late Will Pierce The Gloom. I Shall Emerge Some Day.

The Heavens And Earth Stay As They Were; My Heart Beats As It Beat: The Truth Remains The Truth.

That Low Man Seeks A Little Thing To Do, Sees It And Does It: This High Man, With A Great Thing To Pursue, Dies Ere He Knows It. That Low Man Goes On Adding One To One, His Hundred's Soon Hit: This High Man, Aiming At A Million, Misses An Unit. That, Has The World Here-should He Need The Next, Let The World Mind Him! This, Throws Himself On God, And Unperplext Seeking Shall Find Him.

There Is Nothing So Unpardonable As To Consent To A Senseless, Aimless, Purposeless Life.

Unless You Can Love, As The Angels May, With The Breadth Of Heaven Betwixt You; Unless You Can Dream That His Faith Is Fast, Through Behoving And Unbeloving; Unless You Can Die When The Dream Is Past- Oh, Never Call It Loving!

The Trouble That Most Of Us Find With The Modern Matched Sets Of Clubs Is That They Don't Really Seem To Know Any More About The Game Than The Old Ones Did.

Silence 'tis Awe Decrees.

That Moment She Was Mine, Mine, Fair, Perfectly Pure And Good: I Found A Thing To Do, And All Her Hair In One Long Yellow String I Wound Three Times Her Little Throat Around, And Strangled Her. No Pain Felt She; I Am Quite Sure She Felt No Pain. As A Shut Bud That Holds A Bee, I Warily Oped Her Lids: Again Laughed The Blue Eyes Without A Stain. And I Untightened The Next Tress About Her Neck; Her Cheek Once More Blushed Bright Beneath My Burning Kiss . . .

So Munch On, Crunch On, Take Your Nuncheon, Breakfast, Supper, Dinner, Luncheon!

Ignorance Is Not Innocence But Sin.

Purity And Innocence

The World And Life's Too Big To Pass For A Dream

The Sad Rhyme Of The Men Who Proudly Clung To Their First Fault, And Withered In Their Pride.

Generations Pass While Some Tree Stands, And Old Families Last Not Three Oaks.

Genius Has Somewhat Of The Infantine; But Of The Childish Not A Touch Or Taint.

Only I Discern Infinite Passion, And The Pain Of Finite Hearts That Yearn.

Lofty Designs Must Close In Like Effects.

Let Friend Trust Friends, And Love Demand Love's Like.

What Youth Deemed Crystal, Age Finds Out Was Dew.

If You Can Sit At Set Of Sun And Count The Deeds That You Have Done And Counting Find Oneself-denying Act, One Word That Eased The Heart Of Him That Heard. One Glance Most Kind, Which Fell Like Sunshine Where He Went, Then You May Count That Day Well Spent.

Most Progress Is Most Failure.

God's Justice, Tardy Though It Prove Perchance, Rests Never On The Track Until It Reach Delinquency.

But What If I Fail Of My Purpose Here? It Is But To Keep The Nerves At Strain, To Dry One's Eyes And Laugh At A Fall, And Baffled, Get Up And Begin Again.

My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am Whole And Sole Reality.

I Know A Mount, The Gracious Sun Perceives First When He Visits, Last, Too, When He Leaves The World; And, Vainly Favored, It Repays The Day-long Glory Of His Steadfast Gaze By No Change Of Its Large Calm Front Of Snow.

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There, And Whoever Wakes In England Sees, Some Morning, Unaware.

Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They Brutes.

Love Is Energy Of Life.

Self Improvement

But Facts Are Facts And Flinch Not.

In This World, Who Can Do A Thing, Will Not; And Who Would Do It, Cannot, I Perceive: Yet The Will's Somewhat — Somewhat, Too, The Power — And Thus We Half-men Struggle.

Paracelsus At Times I Almost Dream I Too Have Spent A Life The Sages’ Way, And Tread Once More Familiar Paths. Perchance I Perished In An Arrogant Self-reliance Ages Ago; And In That Act A Prayer For One More Chance Went Up So Earnest, So Instinct With Better Light Let In By Death, That Life Was Blotted Out — Not So Completely But Scattered Wrecks Enough Of It Remain, Dim Memories, As Now, When Once More Seems The Goal In Sight Again.

Grow Old Along With Me! The Best Is Yet To Be, The Last Of Life, For Which The First Was Made. Our Times Are In His Hand Who Saith, 'a Whole I Planned, Youth Shows But Half; Trust God: See All, Nor Be Afraid!

Italy, My Italy! Queen Mary's Saying Serves For Me (when Fortune's Malice Lost Her Calais): "open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It 'italy.'"

Youth Means Love, Vows Can't Change Nature, Priests Are Only Men.

When Is Man Strong Until He Feels Alone?

All Will Be Gay When Noontide Wakes Anew The Buttercups, The Little Children's Dower.

Escape Me? Never, Beloved! While I Am I, And You Are You.

At Last Awake From Life, That Insane Dream We Take For Waking Now.

If All The World Is A Stage And Life Is Just A Play Upon It, Get Me Two Seats In The Stalls.

When I Love Most, Love Is Disguised. In Hate; And When Hate Is Surprised, In Love, Then I Hate Most.

Tis Looking Downward Makes One Dizzy.

The Past Is Gained, Secure, And On Record.

I Hear You Reproach, "but Delay Was Best, For Their End Was A Crime." Oh, A Crime Will Do As Well, I Reply, To Serve For A Test As A Virtue Golden Through And Through, Sufficient To Vindicate Itself And Prove Its Worth At A Moment's View! . . . . . . Let A Man Contend To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize, Be It What It Will! The Counter Our Lovers Staked Was Lost As Surely As If It Were Lawful Coin; And The Sin I Impute To Each Frustrate Ghost Is-the Unlit Lamp And The Ungirt Loin, Though The End In Sight Was A Vice, I Say.

A Whole I Planned, Youth Shows But Half; Trust God: See All, Nor Be Afraid!

Best Is Yet To Come

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There.

April And Spring

Again The Cousin's Whistle! Go, My Love.

Who Knows Most, Doubts Most.

They Are Perfect; How Else?-they Shall Never Change: We Are Faulty; Why Not?-we Have Time In Store.

How Well I Know What I Mean To Do When The Long Dark Autumn Evenings Come, And Where, My Soul, Is Thy Pleasant Hue? With The Music Of All Thy Voices, Dumb In Life’s November Too! I Shall Be Found By The Fire, Suppose, O’er A Great Wise Book As Beseemeth Age, While The Shutters Flap As The Cross-wind Blows, And I Turn The Page, And I Turn The Page, Not Verse Now, Only Prose!

The Sea Heaves Up, Hangs Loaded O'er The Land, Breaks There, And Buries Its Tumultuous Strength.

The Ultimate, Angels' Law, Indulging Every Instinct Of The Soul There Where Law, Life, Joy, Impulse Are One Thing!

Be Sure They Sleep Not Whom God Needs.

Each Life Unfulfilled, You See; It Hangs Still, Patchy And Scrappy: We Have Not Sighed Deep, Laughed Free, Starved, Feasted, Despaired,—been Happy.

Earth Being So Good, Would Heaven Seem Best?

No! Let Me Taste The Whole Of It, Fare Like My Peers, The Heroes Of Old, Bear The Brunt, In A Minute Pay Glad Life's Arrears Of Pain, Darkness And Cold.

Poetry, Like Love, Is Something We Never Truly Say Goodbye To.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor Stops: Potterand Clayendure.

Death Was Past, Life Not Come: So He Waited.

In The Morning Of The World, When Earth Was Nigher Heaven Than Now.

If Thou Tastest A Crust Of Bread, Thou Tastest All The Stars And All The Heavens.

If Two Lives Join, There Is Oft A Scar. They Are One And One, With A Shadowy Third; One Near One Is Too Far.

Rats They Fought The Dogs And Killed The Cats, And Bit The Babies In The Cradles, And Ate The Cheeses Out Of The Vats, And Licked The Soup From The Cook's Own Ladles. Split Open The Kegs Of Salted Sprats, Made Nests Inside Men's Sunday Hats, And Even Spoiled The Women's Chats By Drowning Their Speaking With Shrieking And Squeaking In Fifty Different Sharps And Flats.

For I Say This Is Death And The Sole Death,- When A Man's Loss Comes To Him From His Gain, Darkness From Light, From Knowledge Ignorance, And Lack Of Love From Love Made Manifest.

Why Comes Temptation But For Man To Meet And Master And Make Crouch Beneath His Foot, And So Be Pedestaled In Triumph?

Stung By The Splendour Of A Sudden Thought.

The Candid Incline To Surmise Of Late That The Christian Faith Proves False.

Women Hate A Debt As Men A Gift.

Would You Have Your Songs Endure? Build On The Human Heart.

Boot, Saddle, To Horse, And Away!

Truth Is Within Ourselves.

Over My Head His Arm He Flung, Against The World.

Look Not Down But Up!

Kiss Me As If You Made Believe You Were Not Sure This Eve, How My Face, Your Flower, Had Pursed It's Petals Up.

The Devil, That Old Stager, Who Leads Downward, Perhaps, But Fiddles All The Way!

"with This Same Key Shakespeare Unlocked His Heart" Once More! Did Shakespeare? If So, The Less Shakespeare He!

Be Sure That God Ne'er Dooms To Waste The Strength He Deigns Impart.

A People Is But The Attempt Of Many To Rise To The Completer Life Of One; And Those Who Live As Models For The Mass Are Singly Of More Value Than They All.

Shun Death, Is My Advice.

When A Man's Busy, Why Leisure Strikes Him As Wonderful Pleasure: 'faith, And At Leisure Once Is He? Straightway He Wants To Be Busy.

Therefore I Summon Age / To Grant Youth's Heritage.

What's The Earth With All Its Art, Verse, Music, Worth — Compared With Love, Found, Gained, And Kept?

Wedding Anniversary

The Common Problem, Yours, Mine, Everyone's Is ? Not To Fancy What Were Fair In Life Provided It Could Be ? But, Finding First What May Be, Then Find How To Make It Fair Up To Our Means.

And Let Them Pass, As They Will Too Soon, With The Bean-flowers' Boon, And The Blackbird's Tune, And May, And June!

Rejoice That Man Is Hurled, From Change To Change Unceasingly, His Soul's Wings Never Furled!

Is Your Love For The Lord Sufficient To Give All Your Time And Talents To His Work?

A Man In Armor Is His Armor's Slave.

God Is Seen God In The Star, In The Stone, In The Flesh, In The Soul And The Clod.

What So Wild As Words Are?

That We Devote Ourselves To God, Is Seen In Living Just As Though No God There Were.

But How Carve Way I' The Life That Lies Before, If Bent On Groaning Ever For The Past?

How Good Is Man's Life, The Mere Living! How Fit To Employ All The Heart And The Soul And The Senses Forever In Joy!

Praise Is Deeper Than The Lips

From The Sprinkled Isles, Lily On Lily, That O'erlace The Sea.

Ah, Love, - You Are My Unutterable Blessing.....i Am In Full Sunshine Now.

Grow Old With Me! The Best Is Yet To Be.

Where The Heart Lies, Let The Brain Lie Also.

Life Is An Empty Dream.

We Shall March Prospering,-not Thro' His Presence; Songs May Inspirit Us,-not From His Lyre; Deeds Will Be Done,-while He Boasts His Quiescence, Still Bidding Crouch Whom The Rest Bade Aspire.

It's Like Those Eerie Stories Nurses Tell, Of How Some Actor On A Stage Played Death, With Pasteboard Crown, Sham Orb And Tinselled Dart, And Called Himself The Monarch Of The World; Then, Going In The Tire-room Afterward, Because The Play Was Done, To Shift Himself, Got Touched Upon The Sleeve Familiarly, The Moment He Had Shut The Closet Door, By Death Himself. Thus God Might Touch A Pope At Unawares, Ask What His Baubles Mean, And Whose Part He Presumed To Play Just Now. Best Be Yourself, Imperial, Plain And True!

Go In Thy Native Innocence, Rely On What Thou Hast Of Virtue, Summon All, For God Towards Thee Hath Done His Part, Do Thine.

'tis Only When They Spring To Heaven That Angels Reveal Themselves To You.

Who Knows Most, Doubts Most; Entertaining Hope Means Recognizing Fear.

'tis An Awkward Thing To Play With Souls.

To Do Good Things In The World, First You Must Know Who You Are And What Gives Meaning To Your Life.

Every One Soon Or Late Comes Round By Rome.

In God's Good Time, Which Does Not Always Fall On Saturday When The World Looks For Wages.

Aspire, Break Bounds. Endeavor To Be Good, And Better Still, Best.

There Shall Never Be One Lost Good! What Was, Shall Live As Before; The Evil Is Null, Is Nought, Is Silence Implying Sound; What Was Good Shall Be Good, With For Evil So Much Good More; On The Earth The Broken Arcs; In The Heaven, A Perfect Round.

God Smiles As He Has Always Smiled; Ere Suns And Moons Could Wax And Wane, Ere Stars Were Thundergirt, Or Piled The Heavens, God Thought On Me His Child; Ordained A Life For Me, Arrayed Its Circumstances, Every One To The Minutest; Ay, God Said This Head This Hand Should Rest Upon Thus, Ere He Fashioned Star Or Sun.

My Business Is Not To Remake Myself, But To Make The Absolute Best Of What God Made.

How Good Is Life, The Mere Living!

Thou Art My Single Day, God Lends To Leaven What Were All Earth Else, With A Feel Of Heaven.

Good Strong Thick Stupefying Incense-smoke!

The Curious Crime, The Fine Felicity And Flower Of Wickedness.

Oh Never Star Was Lost Here But It Rose Afar.

All Good Things Are Ours, Nor Soul Helps Flesh More, Now, Than Flesh Helps Soul!

For Life, With All Its Yields Of Joy And Woe Is Just A Chance O' The Prize Of Learning Love.

'tis Well Averred, A Scientific Faith's Absurd.

Positive Atheism

Autumn Wins You Best By This Its Mute Appeal To Sympathy For Its Decay.

Things Are Where Things Are, And, As Fate Has Willed, So Shall They Be Fulfilled.

A Lion May Die Of An Ass's Kick.

A Minute's Success Pays The Failure Of Years.

There's A New Tribunal Now Higher Than God's -the Educated Man's!

Mothers, Wives And Maids, These Be The Tools With Which Priests Manage Men.

We Find Great Things Are Made Of Little Things, And Little Things Go Lessening Till At Last Comes God Behind Them.

The Great Beacon Light God Sets In All, The Conscience Of Each Bosom.

Into The Street The Piper Stepped, Smiling First A Little Smile As If He Knew What Magic Slept In His Quiet Pipe The While. And The Piper Advanced And The Children Followed.

Thought Is The Soul Of Act.

Pippa's Song The Year's At The Spring The Day's At The Morn Morning's At Seven, The Hill Side's Dew-pearled The Lark's On The Wing The Snail's On The Thorn God's In His Heaven- All's Right With The World

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.

Days Decrease, / And Autumn Grows, Autumn In Everything.

I Have No Little Insight Into The Feelings Of Furniture, And Treat Books And Prints With A Reasonable Consideration. How Some People Use Their Pictures, For Instance, Is A Mystery To Me; Very Revolting All The Same--portraits Obliged To Face Each Other For Ever--prints Put Together In Portfolios.

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

Shakespeare Was Of Us, Milton Was Of Us, Burns, Shelley, Were With Us. They Watch From Their Graves!

Open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It ‘italy.'

What's A Man's Age? He Must Hurry More, That's All; Cram In A Day, What His Youth Took A Year To Hold.

Heart, Fear Nothing, For, Heart, Thou Shalt Find Her- Next Time, Herself!-not The Trouble Behind Her

I See My Way As Birds Their Trackless Way. I Shall Arrive,- What Time, What Circuit First, I Ask Not; But Unless God Send His Hail Or Blinding Fire-balls, Sleet Or Stifling Snow, In Some Time, His Good Time, I Shall Arrive: He Guides Me And The Bird. In His Good Time.

But God Has A Few Of Us To Whom He Whispers In The Ear; The Rest May Reason And Welcome; 'tis We Musicians Know.

It Is The Glory And Good Of Art, That Art Remains The One Way Possible Of Speaking Truth, To Mouths Like Mine At Least.

Make Us Happy And You Make Us Good.

Go Practice If You Please With Men And Women: Leave A Child Alone For Christ's Particular Love's Sake!

Strike When Thou Wilt, The Hour Of Rest, But Let My Last Days Be My Best.

Ah, But A Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp, Or What's A Heaven For?

There Are Those Who Believe Something, And Therefore Will Tolerate Nothing; And On The Other Hand, Those Who Tolerate Everything, Because They Believe Nothing.

Measure Your Mind's Height By The Shade It Casts.

I Trust In Nature For The Stable Laws Of Beauty And Utility. Spring Shall Plant And Autumn Garner To The End Of Time. I Trust In God,-the Right Shall Be The Right And Other Than The Wrong, While He Endures. I Trust In My Own Soul, That Can Perceive The Outward And The Inward,-nature's Good And God's.

Truth That Peeps Over The Glass's Edge When Dinner's Done.

I Want To Know A Butcher Paints, A Baker Rhymes For His Pursuit, Candlestick-maker Much Acquaints His Soul With Song, Or, Haply Mute, Blows Out His Brains Upon The Flute.

In The First Is The Last, In Thy Will Is My Power To Believe.

I Think, Am Sure, A Brother's Love Exceeds All The World's Loves In Its Unworldliness.

You Call For Faith: I Show You Doubt, To Prove That Faith Exists. The More Of Doubt, The Stronger Faith, I Say, If Faith O'ercomes Doubt.

Though Rome's Gross Yoke Drops Off, No More To Be Endured, Her Teaching Is Not So Obscured By Errors And Perversities, That No Truth Shines Athwart The Lies.

What Joy Is Better Than The News Of Friends?

I, Painting From Myself And To Myself, Know What I Do, Am Unmoved By Men's Blame Or Their Praise Either.

Truth Is Truth Howe'er It Strike.

But Little Do Or Can The Best Of Us: That Little Is Achieved Through Liberty.

What A Thing Friendship Is - World Without End.

For Thence A Paradox Which Comforts While It Mocks, - Shall Life Succeed In That It Seems To Fail: What I Aspired To Be, And Was Not, Comforts Me: A Brute I Might Have Been, But Would Not Sink I' The Scale.

Imperfection Means Perfection Hid.

Was There Nought Better Than To Enjoy? No Feat Which, Done, Would Make Time Break, And Let Us Pent-up Creatures Through Into Eternity, Our Due? No Forcing Earth Teach Heaven's Employ?

Any Nose May Ravage With Impunity A Rose.

The Peerless Cup Afloat Of The Lake-lily Is An Urn Some Nymph Swims Bearing High Above Her Head.

Our Interest's On The Dangerous Edge Of Things. The Honest Thief, The Tender Murderer, The Superstitious Atheist.

You Should Not Take A Fellow Eight Years Old And Make Him Swear To Never Kiss The Girls.

Smiling The Boy Fell Dead.

Oh, Good Gigantic Smile O' The Brown Old Earth, This Autumn Morning! How He Sets His Bones To Bask I' The Sun, And Thrusts Out Knees And Feet. From The Ripple To Run Over In Its Mirth

I Walked A Mile With Pleasure; She Chattered All The Way. But Left Me None The Wiser For All She Had To Say. I Walked A Mile With Sorrow And Ne'er A Word Said She; But Oh, The Things I Learned From Her When Sorrow Walked With Me!

Dear, Dead Women, With Such Hair, Too--what's Become Of All The Gold Used To Hang And Brush Their Bosoms?

A Pretty Woman's Worth Some Pains To See, Nor Is She Spoiled, I Take It, If A Crown Completes The Forehead Pale And Tresses Pure.

All Service Ranks The Same With God,- With God, Whose Puppets, Best And Worst, Are We: There Is No Last Nor First.

There Are Three Ways Of Learning Golf: By Study, Which Is The Most Wearisome; By Imitation, Which Is The Most Fallacious; And By Experience, Which Is The Most Bitter.

All Poetry Is Difficult To Read - The Sense Of It Anyhow.

Who Hears Music Feels His Solitude Peopled At Once.

Inspirational Music

Grow Old With Me. The Best Is Yet To Be. The Last Of Life For Which The First Was Made.

Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

Have You Found Your Life Distasteful? My Life Did, And Does, Smack Sweet. Was Your Youth Of Pleasure Wasteful? Mine I Saved And Hold Complete. Do Your Joys With Age Diminish? When Mine Fail Me, I'll Complain. Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

The Lie Was Dead And Damned, And Truth Stood Up Instead.

We Mortals Cross The Ocean Of This World Each In His Average Cabin Of A Life; The Bests Not Big, The Worst Yields Elbowroom.

What Of Soul Was Left, I Wonder, When The Kissing Had To Stop?

A Minute Of Success Pays For Years Of Failure.

Faultless To A Fault.

Mid The Sharp, Short Emerald Wheat, Scarce Risen Three Fingers Well, The Wild Tulip At The End Of Its Tube, Blows Out Its Great Red Bell, Like A Thin Clear Bubble Of Blood, For The Children To Pick And Sell.

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