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 up on the heather
And there I put inside my breast
A moulted feather, an eagle-feather!
Well, I forget the rest.
Robert Browning's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Memorabilia by Robert Browning )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- A Poem Reflects, Sandra Feldman
- Dreaming, Ronald Chapman
- Drop Of Ink #1, Of Muses And Other Ghosts
- Dream Land, Ronald Chapman
- (1) The Ceaseless Waves of Sorrow, Uriah Hamilton
- An Ode to a Toad Named Frank, Susan Sparks
- The Path, Deepak Hariharan
- A Hymn to God, Dr John Celes
- The Facebook Poem, Alan W. Jankowski
- The Jerk At Work, Alan W. Jankowski