Robert Browning

(1812-1889 / London / England)

Robert Browning Poems

1. Tray 5/27/2015
2. Pheidippides 12/10/2015
3. The Lady and the Painter 3/1/2016
4. Bad Dreams: III 5/28/2015
5. How It Strikes a Contemporary 6/8/2015
6. Bad Dreams: I 5/28/2015
7. Herve Riel 4/7/2010
8. Introduction: Pippa Passes 4/7/2010
9. O' Lyric Love 4/7/2010
10. Heap Cassia, Sandal-Buds And Stripes 1/3/2003
11. Christmas-Eve 4/7/2010
12. Master Hugues Of Saxe-Gotha 5/13/2001
13. Easter-Day 4/7/2010
14. The Heretic's Tragedy 5/13/2001
15. Thus The Mayne Glideth 1/4/2003
16. Fears And Scruples 4/7/2010
17. Cavalier Tunes: Give A Rouse 1/1/2004
18. Natural Magic 4/7/2010
19. Through The Metidja To Abd-El-Kadr 5/13/2001
20. Song From 'Paracelsus' 1/4/2003
21. Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along 1/1/2004
22. One Word More 4/7/2010
23. The Italian In England 5/13/2001
24. Cavalier Tunes: Boot And Saddle 1/1/2004
25. Holy-Cross Day 5/13/2001
26. Over The Sea Our Galleys Went 1/1/2004
27. Apparitions 4/7/2010
28. To Edward Fitzgerald 12/31/2002
29. The Glove 5/13/2001
30. The Englishman In Italy 5/13/2001
31. Waring 5/13/2001
32. Cavalier Tunes 5/13/2001
33. The Confessional 5/13/2001
34. In A Gondola 5/13/2001
35. Glove, The 12/31/2002
36. Verse-Making Was Least Of My Virtues 1/3/2003
37. A Tale 4/7/2010
38. Misconceptions 5/13/2001
39. Respectability 5/13/2001
40. Count Gismond--Aix In Provence 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Robert Browning

My Last Duchess

FERRARA.

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
``Fr Pandolf'' by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn ...

Read the full of My Last Duchess

The Lost Leader

I.

Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat---
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others she lets us devote;
They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,
So much was theirs who so little allowed:
How all our copper had gone for his service!

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