Love: “Such a starved bank of moss”

by Robert Browning (1812–1889) English

Such a starved bank of moss
Till, that May morn,
Blue ran the flash across:
Violets were born!

Sky—what a scowl of cloud
Till, near and far,
Ray on ray split the shroud:
Splendid, a star!

World—how it walled about
Life with disgrace
Till God’s own smile came out;
That was thy face!

More poems by Robert Browning

Porphyria's Lover

The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite, …
Rabbi Ben Ezra

GROW old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first I was made: …
The Lost Leader

JUST 1 for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat—
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, …
Home Thoughts from Abroad

I.
oh, to be in England now that April’s there
And whoever wakes in England sees, some morning, unaware, …