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Robert Browning

Robert Browning

White Witchcraft

If you and I could change to beasts, what beast should either be?
Shall you and I play Jove for once? Turn fox then, I decree!
Shy wild sweet stealer of the grapes! Now do your worst on me!
And thus you think to spite your friend—turned loathsome? What, a toad?
So, all men shrink and shun me! Dear men, pursue your road!
Leave but my crevice in the stone, a reptile’s fit abode
 
Now say your worst, Canidia! “He’s loathsome, I allow:
There may or may not lurk a pearl beneath his puckered brow:
But see his eyes that follow mine—love lasts there, anyhow.”

#Asolando #EnglishWriters #Victorian

Other works by Robert Browning...
Thus the Mayne Glideth

THUS the Mayne glideth Where my Love abideth; Sleep 's no softer: it proceeds On through lawns, on through meads… On and on, whate’er befall,
The Pope and the Net

What, he on whom our voices unanim… Made Pope at our last Conclave?… His father earned the daily bread… So much the more his boy minds boo… Becomes first Deacon, and then Pr…
My Last Duchess

That’s my last Duchess painted on… Looking as if she were alive. I c… That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pan… Worked busily a day, and there she… Will’t please you sit and look at…
From ‘paracelsus’

TRUTH is within ourselves; it ta… From outward things, whate’er you… There is an inmost centre in us al… Where truth abides in fullness; an… Wall upon wall, the gross flesh he…
A Light Woman

So far as our story approaches the… Which do you pity the most of us t… My friend, or the mistress of my f… With her wanton eyes, or me? My friend was already too good to…
The Bean-Feast

He was the man—Pope Sixtus, that… He knew the right thing, did it, a… But of all he had to thank for, my… To thinking, what most moved him w… For one day, as his wont was, in j…
Pan and Luna

Si credere dignum est.—Virgil,… Oh, worthy of belief I hold it wa… Virgil, your legend in those stran… No question, that adventure came t… One black night in Arcadia: yes,…
Lost Mistress, The

All’s over, then: does truth sound… As one at first believes? Hark, 'tis the sparrows’ good-nigh… About your cottage eaves! II.
Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed’s Church, Rome, The

Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity… Draw round my bed: is Anselm keep… Nephews—sons mine . . . ah God, I… She, men would have to be your mot… Old Gandolf envied me, so fair sh…
The Italian in England

That second time they hunted me From hill to plain, from shore to… And Austria, hounding far and wid… Her blood-hounds thro’ the country… Breathed hot and instant on my tra…
Poetics

“So say the foolish!” Say the foo… “Flower she is, my rose”—or else,… Or perhaps, “Yon maid-moon, bless… That art thou!”—to them, belike: n… “Hush, rose, blush! no balm like b…
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Song

Nay but you, who do not love her, Is she not pure gold, my mistress? Holds earth aught—speak truth—abov… Aught like this tress, see, and th… And this last fairest tress of all…
De Gustibus

Your ghost will walk, you lover of… (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with… Hark, those two in the hazel coppi…
Andrea del Sarto

But do not let us quarrel any more… No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for… Sit down and all shall happen as y… You turn your face, but does it br… I’ll work then for your friend’s f…
Guardian

A PICTURE AT FANO. Dear and great Angel, wouldst tho… That child, when thou hast done wi… Let me sit all the day here, that… Shall find performed thy special m…



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