Elizabeth Barrett Browning

(6 March 1806 – 29 June 1861 / Durham / England)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning Poems

161. Sonnet Xxxv 12/31/2002
162. Sonnet Xxxv: If I Leave All For Thee 1/3/2003
163. Sonnet Xxxvi 12/31/2002
164. Sonnet Xxxvi: When We Met First 1/3/2003
165. Sonnet Xxxvii 12/31/2002
166. Sonnet Xxxvii: Pardon, Oh, Pardon 1/3/2003
167. Sonnet Xxxviii 12/31/2002
168. Sonnet Xxxviii: First Time He Kissed Me 1/3/2003
169. Sonnets From The Portuguese I 1/4/2003
170. Sonnets From The Portuguese Ii 1/4/2003
171. Sonnets From The Portuguese Iii 1/4/2003
172. Sonnets From The Portuguese Iv 1/4/2003
173. Sonnets From The Portuguese V 1/4/2003
174. Stanzas On The Death Of Lord Byron 3/24/2012
175. Substitution 5/12/2001
176. Tears 5/12/2001
177. The Autumn 5/12/2001
178. The Best Thing In The World 12/31/2002
179. The Cry Of The Children 12/31/2002
180. The Deserted Garden 5/12/2001
181. The House Of Clouds 5/13/2001
182. The Lady's Yes 5/13/2001
183. The Landing Of The Pilgrim Fathers 1/3/2003
184. The Look 5/13/2001
185. The Meaning Of The Look 5/13/2001
186. The Poet And The Bird 5/13/2001
187. The Prisoner 5/13/2001
188. The Runaway Slave At Pilgrim's Point 12/31/2002
189. The Seraph And Poet 5/13/2001
190. The Soul's Expression 5/13/2001
191. The Two Sayings 5/13/2001
192. The Weakest Thing 12/31/2002
193. To 5/13/2001
194. To Flush, My Dog 5/13/2001
195. To George Sand: A Desire 5/13/2001
196. To George Sand: A Recognition 5/13/2001
197. V 5/13/2001
198. Vi 5/13/2001
199. Vii 5/13/2001
200. Viii 5/13/2001
Best Poem of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How Do I Love Thee?

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 candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love 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 ...

Read the full of How Do I Love Thee?

Sonnet Xvii

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God's will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.

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