Poem Lake | Page 3 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

The Prospect Methinks we do as fretful children do, Leaning their faces on the window-pane To sigh the glass dim with their own breath’s stain, And shut the sky and landscape from their view; And, thus, alas! since God the maker drew A mystic separation ’twixt... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning	A Musical Instrument What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat With the dragon-fly on the river? He tore out a reed,... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning	George Sand True genius, but true woman! dost deny Thy woman’s nature with a manly scorn, And break away the gauds and armlets worn By weaker women in captivity? Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry Is sobbed in by a woman’s voice forlorn; Thy woman’s hair, my... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning	On a Portrait of Wordsworth By B. R. Haydon WORDSWORTH upon Helvellyn! Let the cloud Ebb audibly along the mountain-wind, Then break against the rock, and show behind The lowland valleys floating up to crowd The sense with beauty. He, with forehead bowed And humble-lidded eyes... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A View across the Roman Campagna 1861 over the dumb campagna-sea, Out in the offing through mist and rain, Saint Peter’s Church heaves silently Like a mighty ship in pain, Facing the tempest with struggle and strain. Motionless waifs of ruined towers, Soundless... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning	That England From “Aurora Leigh” WHOEVER lives true life, will love true love. I learned to love that England. Very oft, Before the day was born, or otherwise Through secret windings of the afternoons, I threw my hunters off and plunged myself Among the deep... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning	Parting Lovers Sienna I Love thee, love thee, Giulio! Some call me cold, and some demure, And if thou hast ever guessed that so I love thee … well;—the proof was poor, And no one could be sure. Before thy song (with shifted rhymes To suit my name... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning	A Court Lady Her hair was tawny with gold, her eyes with purple were dark, Her cheeks’ pale opal burnt with a red and restless spark. Never was lady of Milan nobler in name and in race; Never was lady of Italy fairer to see in the face. Never was lady on earth more true as... Poet: Elizabeth Barrett Browning