Elizabeth Barrett Browning could write a poem two pages long. Could she have brought it to a music publisher?
You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.
Who so loves believes the impossible.
My sun sets to rise again.
Light tomorrow with today!
What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality?
He said true things, but called them by wrong names.
A woman is always younger than a man at equal years.
Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.
But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!
At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.
Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?
God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in it.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
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