Noted primarily for his poetry, Browning also sketched, painted, and modeled in clay. Comment on works: genre, allegory
British poet.
Buried in Westminster Abbey.
He had one child, Robert Wiedemann Barrett Browning, born in 1849. He was called Penini and Pen for short.
Distant relative of Walter De La Mare.
Twas a thief said the last word to Christ: Christ took the kindness and,forgave the theft.
[on motherhood] All love begins and ends there.
There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness;. . . . and, to know, rather consists in opening out a way where the imprisoned splendor may escape, then in effecting entry for a light supposed to be without.
Love is the energy of life.
Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew,The rain set early in tonight,The sullen wind was soon awake,It tore the elm-tops down for spite,And did its best to vex the lake:I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straightShe shut the cold out and the storm,And kneeled and made the cheerless grateBlaze up and all the cottage warm;,Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character,Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
Who hears music, feels his solitudePeopled at once.
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.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made . . .
A minute’s success pays the failure of years.
I was made and meant to look for you and wait for you and become yours forever.
The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low: And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow,And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
Best be yourself, imperial, plain, and true.
Why stay we on earth except to grow?,Grow old with me! The best is yet to be The last of life for which the first was made: Our times are in his hands Who sayeth "a whole I plant Youth shows but half Trust God see all nor be afraid. ",When pain ends gain ends too.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Your children are not dead. They are just waiting until the world deserves them.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Make us happy and you make us good.
Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.
So free we seem so fettered fast we are!,Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be.
Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest but let my last days be my best.
Less is more.
Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirrels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety, but never reach the top.
Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character.
Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.
Love is energy of life.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
So, fall asleep love, loved by me. . . for I know love, I am loved by thee.
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
God is the perfect poet. .
