Robert Browning

(1812-1889 / London / England)

Robert Browning Poems

81. Love In A Life 5/13/2001
82. Man I Am And Man Would Be, Love 1/3/2003
83. Master Hugues Of Saxe-Gotha 5/13/2001
84. Meeting At Night 5/13/2001
85. Memorabilia 5/13/2001
86. Mesmerism 5/13/2001
87. Misconceptions 5/13/2001
88. My Last Duchess 5/13/2001
89. My Star 5/13/2001
90. Nationality In Drinks 5/13/2001
91. Natural Magic 4/7/2010
92. Never The Time And The Place 12/31/2002
93. Now! 12/31/2002
94. O' Lyric Love 4/7/2010
95. Old Pictures In Florence 5/13/2001
96. One Way Of Love 5/13/2001
97. One Word More 4/7/2010
98. Over The Sea Our Galleys Went 1/1/2004
99. Overhead The Tree-Tops Meet 1/3/2003
100. Pan And Luna 1/3/2003
101. Parting At Morning 5/13/2001
102. Patriot, The 12/31/2002
103. Pied Piper Of Hamelin, The 12/31/2002
104. Pippa's Song 12/31/2002
105. Popularity 5/13/2001
106. Porphyria's Lover 5/13/2001
107. Prospice 12/31/2002
108. Rabbi Ben Ezra 5/13/2001
109. Respectability 5/13/2001
110. Saul 5/13/2001
111. Soliloquy Of The Spanish Cloister 5/13/2001
112. Song 5/13/2001
113. Song From 'Paracelsus' 1/4/2003
114. Summum Bonum 12/31/2002
115. The Boy And The Angel 5/13/2001
116. The Confessional 5/13/2001
117. The Englishman In Italy 5/13/2001
118. The Flight Of The Duchess 5/13/2001
119. The Glove 5/13/2001
120. The Guardian-Angel 5/13/2001
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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