Robert Browning

(1812-1889 / London / England)

Robert Browning Poems

41. Respectability 5/13/2001
42. The Confessional 5/13/2001
43. Love Among The Ruins 4/7/2010
44. Overhead The Tree-Tops Meet 1/3/2003
45. Song 5/13/2001
46. Saul 5/13/2001
47. Cleon 1/1/2004
48. Old Pictures In Florence 5/13/2001
49. Incident Of The French Camp 5/13/2001
50. Mesmerism 5/13/2001
51. From 'Pauline' 1/1/2004
52. The Boy And The Angel 5/13/2001
53. Italian In England, The 12/31/2002
54. Nationality In Drinks 5/13/2001
55. Instans Tyrannus 5/13/2001
56. The Lost Leader 5/13/2001
57. Pan And Luna 1/3/2003
58. Patriot, The 12/31/2002
59. Caliban Upon Setebos Or, Natural Theology In The Island 1/1/2004
60. The Flight Of The Duchess 5/13/2001
61. De Gustibus--- 5/13/2001
62. The Wanderers 1/4/2003
63. The Lost Mistress 5/13/2001
64. Apparent Failure 4/7/2010
65. Confessional, The 12/31/2002
66. Apparitions 4/7/2010
67. Waring 5/13/2001
68. The Statue And The Bust 1/3/2003
69. Popularity 5/13/2001
70. Time's Revenges 5/13/2001
71. Youth And Art 5/13/2001
72. The Laboratory 5/13/2001
73. Memorabilia 5/13/2001
74. Two In The Campagna 5/13/2001
75. Man I Am And Man Would Be, Love 1/3/2003
76. Flight Of The Duchess, The 12/31/2002
77. Epilogue To Asolando 1/13/2003
78. Englishman In Italy, The 12/31/2002
79. Summum Bonum 12/31/2002
80. Lost Leader, The 12/31/2002
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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