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Abt Vogler Andrea del Sarto Angel Arezzo Aristophanes ballad Barrett beauty Bells and Pomegranates Bernard de Mandeville brain breast brought Browning's character Christopher Smart Cimabue colours Count Guido critics death dramatic Duchess earth Evelyn Hope eyes face Fancies feeling Florence galloped give gold hand heart heaven human imaginative Last Duchess leave lives look Luria lyric Macready mind monologue murder nature never night nought o'er once painted Paracelsus Pauline picture Pippa Pippa Passes play poem poet poetic poetry Pompilia Porphyria's Lover portrait Rafael Robert Browning Rome round seems Shelley shut smile song sonnets Sordello soul soul's speak spirit stanzas stood story Strafford suggest thee there's thing thou thought thro Toccata of Galuppi's tragedy tragic turn twas verse villa whole wife words writing
97. oldal - All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good, shall exist ; Not its semblance, but itself ; no beauty, nor good, nor power • Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist When eternity affirms the conception of an hour.
98. oldal - And bade me creep past. 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. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
45. oldal - Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
93. oldal - O world, as God has made it ! all is beauty : And knowing this, is love, and love is duty.
44. oldal - So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!
65. oldal - Sixteen years old when she died ! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name ; It was not her time to love ; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till God's hand beckoned unawares, — And the sweet white brow is all of her. m. Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope? What, your soul was pure and true, The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire and dew...
48. oldal - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two.
67. oldal - I loved you, Evelyn, all the while My heart seemed full as it could hold ? There was place and to spare for the frank young smile, And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold. So, hush, — I will give you this leaf to keep : See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand ! There, that is our secret : go to sleep ! You will wake, and remember, and understand.
47. oldal - The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace— all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least.
72. oldal - They are stone-faced, white as a curd, there's something to take the eye! Houses in four straight lines, not a single front awry; You watch who crosses and gossips, who saunters, who hurries by; Green blinds, as a matter of course, to draw when the sun gets high; And the shops with fanciful signs which are painted properly.