Elizabeth Barrett Browning Poems

Famous Poets    /   Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Be inspired by this collection of Elizabeth Barrett Browning poems. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born in the United Kingdom on March 6, 1806. She was an English poet who wrote many poems in her lifetime - starting at age eleven her passion for poetry began. The most popular poem that she wrote and one that is often still recited today is "How Do I Love Thee?" She died on June 29, 1861, but her work still lives on today.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Popular Short  Famous Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

  1. Tears
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
    More grief than ye can weep for. That is well, -
    That is light grieving! lighter, none befell,
    Since Adam forfeited the primal lot
    Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot,
    The mother singing; at her marriage-bell,
    The bride weeps; and before the oracle
    Of high-fined hills, the poet hath forgot
    That moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for grace,
    Whoever weep; albeit, as some have done,
    Ye grope tear-blinded, in a desert place,
    And touch but tombs, — look up! Those tears will run
    Soon, in long rivers, down the lifted face,
    And leave the vision clear for stars and sun.

    Inspirational Poems
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  2. Perplexed Music
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    Experience, like a pale musician, holds
    A dulcimer of patience in his hand;
    Whence harmonies we cannot understand
    Of God's will in his worlds, the strain unfolds
    In sad, perplexed minors. Deathly colds
    Fall on us while we hear, and countermand
    Our sanguine heart back from the fancy-land,
    With nightingales in visionary wolds.
    We murmur, "Where is any certain tune,
    Or measured music, in such notes as these?"
    But angels, leaning from the golden seat,
    Are not so minded! Their fine ear hath won
    The issue of completed cadences;
    And smiling down the stars, they whisper, "Sweet"

    Christian Poems
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  3. Cheerful Taught By Reason
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    I think we are too ready with complaint
    In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope
    Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope
    Of yon grey blank of sky, we might grow faint
    To muse upon eternity's constraint
    Round our aspirant souls; but since the scope
    Must widen early, is it well to droop.
    For a few days consumed in loss and taint?
    O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted
    And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road,
    Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread
    Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod
    To meet the flints? At least it may be said
    "'Because the way is short, I thank thee, God."

    Thanksgiving Poems
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  4. Work and Contemplation
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    The woman singeth at her spinning-wheel
    A pleasant chant, ballad or barcarole;
    She thinketh of her song, upon the whole.
    Far more than of her flax; and yet the reel
    Is full, and artfully her fingers feel
    With quick adjustment, provident control.
    The lines - too subtly twisted to unroll -
    Out to a perfect thread. I hence appeal
    To the dear Christian Church- that we may do
    Our Father's business in these temples mirk,
    Thus swift and steadfast, thus intent and strong;
    While thus, apart from toil, our souls pursue
    Some high calm spheric tune, and prove our work
    The better for the sweetness of our song.

    Poems of Encouragement
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  5. Discontent
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    Light human nature is too lightly tost
    And ruffled without cause, complaining on -
    Restless with rest, until, being overthrown.
    It learneth to lie quiet. Let a frost
    Or a small wasp have crept to the innermost
    Of our ripe peach, or let the wilful sun
    Shine westward of our window, - straight we run
    A furlong's sigh as if the world were lost.
    But what time through the heart and through the brain
    God hath transfixed us, - we, so moved before, lo
    Attain to a calm. Ay, shouldering weights of pain.
    We anchor in deep waters, safe from shore.
    And hear submissive o'er the stormy main
    God's chartered judgments walk for evermore.

    Motivational Poems
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  6. Past and Future
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    My future will not copy fair my past
    On any leaf but Heaven's. Be fully done.
    Supernal Will! I would not fain be one
    Who, satisfying thirst and breaking fast.
    Upon the fulness of the heart at last
    Says no grace after meat. My wine has run
    Indeed out of my cup, and there is none
    To gather up the bread of my repast
    Scattered and trampled; yet I find some good
    In earth's green herbs, and streams that bubble up
    Clear from the darkling ground, - content until
    I sit with angels before better food:
    Dear Christ! when Thy new vintage fulls my cup.
    This hand shall shake no more, nor that wine spill.

    Heaven Poems
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  7. Irreparableness
    Poet: 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
    Has 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.

    Poetry about Life and Death
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  8. Substitution
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    When some beloved voice that was to you
    Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly.
    And silence, against which you dare not cry.
    Aches round you like a strong disease and new -
    What hope? what help? what music will undo
    That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh.
    Not reason's subtle count; not melody
    Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew;
    Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales
    Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress-trees
    To the clear moon; nor yet the spheric laws
    Self-chanted, nor the angels' sweet "All hails,"
    Met in the smile of God: nay, none of these.
    Speak Thou, availing Christ! - and fill this pause.

    Poems About God
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  9. Comfort
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
    From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low,
    Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
    Who art not missed by any that entreat.
    Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet!
    And if no precious gums my hands bestow.
    Let my tears drop like amber while I go
    In reach of Thy divinest voice complete
    In humanest affection - thus, in sooth.
    To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
    Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore.
    Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth
    Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled.
    He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

    Poems About Jesus
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  10. The Two Sayings
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    Two sayings of the Holy Scriptures beat
    Like pulses in the Church's brow and breast;
    And by them we find rest in our unrest
    And, heart-deep in salt tears, do yet entreat
    God's fellowship as if on heavenly seat.
    The first is Jesus wept, - whereon is prest
    Full many a sobbing face that drops its best
    And sweetest waters on the record sweet:
    And one is where the Christ, denied and scorned,
    Looked upon Peter. Oh, to render plain,
    By help of having loved a little and mourned.
    That look of sovran love and sovran pain
    Which He, who could not sin yet suffered, turned
    On him who could reject but not sustain!

    Good Friday Poem
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  11. Pain In Pleasure
    Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    A thought lay like a flower upon mine heart.
    And drew around it other thoughts like bees
    For multitude and thirst of sweetnesses;
    Whereat rejoicing, I desired the art
    Of the Greek whistler, who to wharf and mart
    Could lure those insect swarms from orange-trees.
    That I might have with me such thoughts and please
    My soul so, always. Foolish counterpart
    Of a weak man's vain wishes! While I spoke,
    The thought I called a flower grew nettle-rough,
    The thoughts, called bees, stung me to festering:
    Oh, entertain (cried Reason as she woke)
    Your best and gladdest thoughts but long enough.
    And they will all prove sad enough to sting!

    Positive Thoughts
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