Sat, 4 February 2006  Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe. There is an inmost center in us all, Where truth abides in fullness; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception which is truth. A baffling and perverting carnal mesh Binds it, and makes all error: and, to KNOW, Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape, Than in effecting an entry for a light Supposed to be without. Robert Browning (1812-1889) from Paracelsus 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 everyday'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 a 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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) Robert Browning's pet name for his wife Elizabeth was "My Portuguese." This was due to her "mediterranean" complexion, which was darker than usually seen in England in those days. Hence the title of her most famous book -- Sonnets From the Portuguese. The above poem is from that book. Category: general -- posted at: 10:27 PM Comments[442] |
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