Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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

Iv

Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,
Most gracious singer of high poems ! where
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more.
And dost thou lift this house's latch too poor
For hand of thine ? and canst thou think and bear
To let thy music drop here unaware
In folds of golden fulness at my door ?
Look up and see the casement broken in,
The bats and owlets builders in the roof !
My cricket chirps against thy mandolin.
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of desolation ! there 's a voice within
That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof


Comments about Iv by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

There is no comment submitted by members..
Iv Score Card

User Rating:
2,8 / 5 (62 votes)0



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: music, house, alone, poem



Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 12, 2001



[Report Error]