Basil Rathbone performs Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43 – How Do Love Thee? How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
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LibriVox – Librivox: Drama of Exile, A by Browning, Elizabeth Barrett
from Librivox: Drama of Exile, A by Browning, Elizabeth Barrett
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Image by Matt McGee
"And tulips, children love to stretch
Their fingers down, to feel in each
Its beauty’s sweet nearer."
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning, A Flower in a Letter
Taken in West Richland, Wash.
I am a fan of her poetry but can’t seem to find how she passe, I know she was less than 50 but cant find the reason why.
The last poem written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning before her death in 1861. Set to music and performed by Chicago singer-songwriter Andrew Calhoun www.andrewcalhoun.com 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, the great god Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river: The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river. High on the shore sat the great god Pan While turbidly flowed the river; And hacked and hewed as a great god can, With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed To prove it fresh from the river. He cut it short, did the great god Pan, (How tall it stood in the river!) Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, Steadily from the outside ring, And notched the poor dry empty thing In holes, as he sat by the river. ‘This is the way,’ laughed the great god Pan (Laughed while he sat by the river), ‘The only way, since gods began To make sweet music, they could succeed.’ Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, He blew in power by the river. Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! Piercing sweet by the river! Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! The sun on the hill forgot to die, And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly Came …
This is for my english due 5/24/06 at 220pm. the websites must be creditable(ie .edu or .org)