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The Poetry of Robert Browning
The Poetry of Robert Browning
The Poetry of Robert Browning
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The Poetry of Robert Browning

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With classics such as ‘My Last Duchess’ and ‘The Pied Piper Of Hamelin’ Robert Browning’s status as one of the great Victorian Poets will always be secure in popular culture. For the more literary he is considered a master of dramatic verse and dramatic monologues. It is interesting to note that his career bloomed late. Indeed it was only after the death of his wife Elizabeth in 1861 and his return to England from their life in Italy that his work came into wider acceptance and critical acclaim. In the last years of his life he recorded part of a poem on a wax cylinder which was played after his death. It was said to be the first time anyone’s voice had been heard from beyond the grave!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 4, 2014
ISBN9781783949816
Author

Robert Browning

Robert Browning (1812-1889) was an English poet and playwright. Browning was born in London to an abolitionist family with extensive literary and musical interests. He developed a skill for poetry as a teenager, while also learning French, Greek, Latin, and Italian. Browning found early success with the publication of Pauline (1833) and Paracelsus (1835), but his career and notoriety lapsed over the next two decades, resurfacing with his collection Men and Women (1855) and reaching its height with the 1869 publication of his epic poem The Ring and the Book. Browning married the Romantic poet Elizabeth Barrett in 1846 and lived with her in Italy until her death in 1861. In his remaining years, with his reputation established and the best of his work behind him, Browning compiled and published his wife’s final poems, wrote a series of moderately acclaimed long poems, and traveled across Europe. Browning is remembered as a master of the dramatic monologue and a defining figure in Victorian English poetry.

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    The Poetry of Robert Browning - Robert Browning

    The Poetry Of Robert Browning

    Volume 1

    With classics such as ‘My Last Duchess’ and ‘The Pied Piper Of Hamelin’ Robert Browning, born on May 17th 1812 in Camberwell in London status as one of the great Victorian Poets will always be secure in popular culture.  For the more literary he is considered a master of dramatic verse and dramatic monologues.  It is interesting to note that his career bloomed late. Indeed it was only after the death of his wife Elizabeth in 1861 and his return to England from their life in Italy that his work came into wider acceptance and critical acclaim.  In the last years of his life he recorded part of a poem on a wax cylinder which was played after his death. It was said to be the first time anyone’s voice had been heard from beyond the grave!

    Index Of Poems

    Home Thoughts From Abroad

    Now

    Among the Rocks

    The Pied Piper Of Hamelin

    The Last Ride Together

    The Year’s At The Spring

    My Last Duchess

    A Woman's Last Word

    A Lovers' Quarrel

    Among the Rocks

    Confessions

    Life in a Bottle

    Women And Roses

    Fears And Scruples

    Prospice

    Epilogue

    In Three Days

    Earth's Immortalities

    Patriot, The

    The Lost Mistress

    Memorabilia

    Never The Time And The Place

    Home Thoughts, from the Sea

    Verse-Making Was Least of My Virtues

    Nationality In Drinks

    Respectability

    The Lost Leader

    Time's Revenges

    The Heretic's Tragedy

    The Guardian-Angel

    The Italian In England

    Abt Vogler

    The Flight Of The Duchess

    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 whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!

    Hark, 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!

    And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

    All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

    The buttercups, the little children's dower

    —Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! 

    Now

    Out of your whole life give but a moment!

    All of your life that has gone before,

    All to come after it, so you ignore,

    So you make perfect the present, condense,

    In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,

    Thought and feeling and soul and sense,

    Merged in a moment which gives me at last

    You around me for once, you beneath me, above me

    Me, sure that, despite of time future, time past,

    This tick of life-time's one moment you love me!

    How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet,

    The moment eternal - just that and no more

    When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core,

    While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet! 

    Among the Rocks

    Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, 

    This autumn morning! How he sets his bones 

    To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet 

    For the ripple to run over in its mirth; 

    Listening the while, where on the heap of stones 

    The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet. 

    That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true; 

    Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows. 

    If you loved only what were worth your love, 

    Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you: 

    Make the low nature better by your throes! 

    Give earth yourself, go up for gain above! 

    The Pied Piper Of Hamelin

    I.

    Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,

    By famous Hanover city;

    The river Weser, deep and wide,

    Washes its wall on the southern side;

    A pleasanter spot you never spied;

    But, when begins my ditty,

    Almost five hundred years ago,

    To see the townsfolk suffer so

    From vermin, was a pity.

    II.

    Rats!

    They fought the dogs and killed the cats,

    And bit the babies in the cradles,

    And ate the cheeses out of the vats,

    And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,

    Split open the kegs of salted sprats,

    Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,

    And even spoiled the women's chats

    By drowning their speaking

    With shrieking and squeaking

    In fifty different sharps and flats.

    III.

    At last the people in a body

    To the Town Hall came flocking:

    'Tis clear,'' cried they, our Mayor's a noddy;

    "And as for our Corporation - shocking.

    "To think we buy gowns lined with ermine

    "For dolts that can't or won't determine

    "What's best to rid us of our vermin!

    "You hope, because you're old and obese,

    "To find in the furry civic robe ease?

    "Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking

    "To find the remedy we're lacking,

    "Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!''

    At this the Mayor and Corporation

    Quaked with a mighty consternation.

    IV.

    An hour they sat in council,

    At length the Mayor broke silence:

    "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell,

    "I wish I were a mile hence!

    "It's easy to bid one rack one's brain

    "I'm sure my poor head aches again,

    "I've scratched it so, and all in vain.

    "Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!''

    Just as he said this, what should hap

    At the chamber door but a gentle tap?

    Bless us,'' cried the Mayor, what's that?''

    (With the Corporation as he sat,

    Looking little though wondrous fat;

    Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister

    Than a too-long-opened oyster,

    Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous

    For a plate of turtle green and glutinous)

    "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?

    "Anything like the sound of a rat

    "Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!''

    V.

    "Come in!'' the

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