Robert Browning

(1812-1889 / London / England)

Misconceptions - Poem by Robert Browning

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This is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprang to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to,---
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!

II.

This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love's regal dalmatic.<*1>
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on---
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!

* 1 A vestment used by ecclesiastics, and formerly
* by senators and persons of high rank.


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Read poems about / on: tree, hope, heart, love, spring



Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 13, 2001

Poem Edited: Sunday, May 13, 2001


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