"The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearl'd; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn; God's in His heaven— All's right with the world!"

"Say not "a small event!" Why "small"? Costs it more pain that this ye call A "great event" should come to pass From that? Untwine me from the mass Of deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed!"

"Any nose May ravage with impunity a rose."

"Each a God's germ, but doomed remain a germ In unexpanded infancy"

"Deeds let escape are never to be done."

"Have they fancies — slow, perchance, Not at their beck, which indistinctly glance Until by song each floating part be linked To each, and all grow palpable, distinct? He pondered this."

"So men believe And worship what they know not, nor receive Delight from."

"[...]his back is fairly turned? The pair of goodly palaces are burned, The gardens ravaged, and your Guelf is drunk A week with joy ; the next, his laughter sunk In sobs of blood, for he found, some strange way, Old Salinguerra back again; I say Old Salinguerra in the town once more Uprooting, overturning, flame before Blood fetlock-high beneath him; Azzo fled; Who scaped the carnage followed; then the dead Were pushed aside from Salinguerra's throne. He ruled once more Ferrara, all alone. Till Azzo, stunned awhile, revived, would pounce; Coupled with Boniface, like lynx and ounce."

"The hill-cat boasts some cunning of her own, Some stealthy tricks to better beasts unknown That quick with prey enough her hunger blunts And feeds her fat while gaunt the lion hunts."

"over zealous in the feat And stumbling on a peril unaware. Was captive, "trammelled in his proper snare," They phrase it, "taken by his own intrigue""

"A minute's success pays the failure of years."

"But, gathering in its ancient market-place, Talked group with restless group ; and not a face But wrath made livid, for among them were Death's staunch purveyors, such as have in care To feast him. Fear had long since taken root In every breast, and now these crushed its fruit, The ripe hate, like a wine: to note the way It worked while each grew drunk ! men grave and grey Stood, with shut eyelids, rocking to and fro. Letting the silent luxury trickle slow About the hollows where a heart should be; But the young gulped with a delirious glee Some foretaste of their first debauch in blood At the fierce news"

"Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet."

"I give the fight up: let there be an end, A privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God."

"The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head."

"Jove strikes the Titans down Not when they set about their mountain-piling But when another rock would crown the work."

"Every joy is gain And gain is gain, however small."

"The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride."

"Error has no end."

"Strange secrets are let out by Death Who blabs so oft the follies of this world."

"God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations."

"Truth is within ourselves."

"I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,—what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time."

"Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart."

"That we devote ourselves to God, is seen In living just as though no God there were."

"Strive and thrive!"

"Autumn wins you best by this its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay."

"One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake."

"So, Willy, let you and me be wipers Of scores out with all men — especially pipers! And, whether they pipe us from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise!"

"Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure, this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up."

"The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead."

"Over my head his arm he flung Against the world."

"There's a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest."

"I trust in Nature for the stable laws Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant And Autumn garner to the end of time. I trust in God,—the right shall be the right And other than the wrong, while he endures. I trust in my own soul, that can perceive The outward and the inward,—Nature's good And God's."

"I judge people by what they might be,—not are, nor will be."

"Sing, riding's a joy! For me I ride."

"It is so horrible, I dare at times imagine to my need Some future state revealed to us by Zeus"

"Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?"

"We loved, sir — used to meet: How sad and bad and mad it was — But then, how it was sweet!"

"Who hears music feels his solitude Peopled at once."

"Womanliness means only motherhood; All love begins and ends there."

"Have you found your life distasteful? My life did and does smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I save and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again."

"I find earth not gray but rosy; Heaven not grim but fair of hue. Do I stoop? I pluck a posy; Do I stand and stare? All's blue."

"Never the time and the place And the loved one all together!"

"What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew."

"If Browning were less difficult to read, he would surely be the dominant poet in this century. I feel the ecstasy with which he exclaims, “Oh, good gigantic smile o’ the brown old earth this autumn morning!" And how he sets my brain going when he says, because there is imperfection, there must be perfection; completeness must come of incompleteness; failure is an evidence of triumph for the fulness of the days. Yes, discord is, that harmony may be; pain destroys, that health may renew; perhaps I am deaf and blind that others likewise afflicted may see and hear with a more perfect sense! From Browning I learn that there is no lost good, and that makes it easier for me to go at life, right or wrong, do the best I know, and fear not. My heart responds proudly to his exhortation to pay gladly life's debt of pain, darkness and cold. Lift up your burden, it is God's gift, bear it nobly."

"He is called an optimist; but the word suggests a calculated contentment which was not in the least one of his vices. What he really was was a romantic. He offered the cosmos as an adventure rather than a scheme. He did not explain evil, far less explain it away: he enjoyed defying it. He was a troubadour even in theology and metaphysics: like the Jongleurs de Dieu of St. Francis. He may be said to have serenaded heaven with a guitar, and even, so to speak, tried to climb there with a rope ladder."

"He concentrated on the special souls of men; seeking God in a series of personal interviews."

"Perhaps one has to be very old before one learns to be amused rather than shocked."