Robert Browning: Все стихи поэта

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Bishop Blougram's Apology

No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.

A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!

We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.

It's different, preaching in basilicas,

And doing duty in some masterpiece

Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!

I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,

Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;

Robert Browning

Pippa Passes: Part III: Evening

Scene.—

Inside the Turret on the Hill above Asolo.Luigi and his Mother entering.

Mother

If there blew wind, you'd hear a long sigh, easing

The utmost heaviness of music's heart.

Luigi

Here in the archway?

Mother

by Robert Browning

Love Among The Ruins

Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles,

Miles and miles

On the solitary pastures where our sheep

Half-asleep

Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop

As they crop—-

Was the site once of a city great and gay,

by Robert Browning

A Lovers' Quarrel

Oh, what a dawn of day!

How the March sun feels like May!

All is blue again

After last night's rain,

And the South dries the hawthorn-spray.

Only, my Love's away!

I'd as lief that the blue were grey,

by Robert Browning

Prospice

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,

The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote

I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,

Yet the strong man must go:

by Robert Browning

Love In A Life

Room after room,

I hunt the house through

We inhabit together.

Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her—-

Next time, herself!—-not the trouble behind her

Left in the curtain, the couch's perfume!

As she brushed it, the cornice-wreath blossomed anew:

by Robert Browning

Home-Thoughts, From Abroad

Oh, to be in England

Now that April's there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

by Robert Browning

Parting At Morning

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,

And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:

And straight was a path of gold for him,

And the need of a world of men for me.

by Robert Browning

Sordello: Book the First

TO J. MILSAND, OF DIJON.

1840.

BOOK THE FIRST.

Who will, may hear Sordello's story told:

His story? Who believes me shall behold

The man, pursue his fortunes to the end,

Like me: for as the friendless-people's friend

Spied from his hill-top once, despite the din

by Robert Browning

A Woman's Last Word

Let's contend no more, Love,

Strive nor weep:

All be as before, Love,

—-Only sleep!

II.

What so wild as words are?

I and thou

by Robert Browning

By The Fire-Side

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!

II.

I shall be found by the fire, suppose,

Robert Browning

De Gustibus---

Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees,

(If our loves remain)

In an English lane,

By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies.

Hark, those two in the hazel coppice—-

A boy and a girl, if the good fates please,

Making love, say,—-

by Robert Browning