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Robert Browning, nostalgia, in English Clear filters

RomanticRobert Browning

Confessions

What is he buzzing in my ears? "Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?" Ah, reverend sir, not I! What I viewed there once, what I view again Where the physic bottles stand On the table's edge,--is a suburb lane, With a wall to my bedside hand. That lane sloped, much as the bottles do, From a house you could descry O'er the garden-wall: is the curtain blue Or green to a healthy eye? To mine, it serves for the old June weather Blue above lane and wall; And that farthest bottle labelled "Ether" Is the house o'er-topping all.
SadRobert Browning

A Toccata of Galuppi's

Oh Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find! I can hardly misconceive you; it would prove me deaf and blind; But altho' I take your meaning, 'tis with such a heavy mind! Here you come with your old music, and here's all the good it brings. What, they lived once thus at Venice where the merchants were the kings, Where St. Mark's is, where the Doges used to wed the sea with rings? Ay, because the sea's the street there; and 'tis arched by ... what you call ... Shylock's bridge with houses on it, where they kept the carnival: I was never out of England--it's as if I saw it all. Did young people take their pleasure when the sea was warm in May?
DreamyRobert Browning

Home Thoughts, From Abroad

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England--now! And after April, when May follows, And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows! Hark I where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops--at the bent spray's edge-- That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
RomanticRobert Browning

"De Gustibus--"

Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies. Hark, those two in the hazel coppice-- A boy and a girl, if the good fates please, Making love, say,-- The happier they! Draw yourself up from the light of the moon. And let them pass, as they will too soon, With the beanflower's boon, And the blackbird's tune, And May, and June! What I love best in all the world Is a castle, precipice-encurled, In a gash of the wind-grieved Apennine.
ContemplativeRobert Browning

Memorabilia

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems and new! But you were living before that, And also you are living after; And the memory I started at-- My starting moves your laughter! I crossed a moor with a name of its own And a certain use in the world, no doubt, Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone 'Mid the blank miles round about. For there I picked upon the heather And there I put inside my breast A moulted feather, an eagle-feather! Well, I forget the rest.

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