33 posts tagged robert browning

As I mentioned over the weekend, on Friday, a colleague allowed me to teach her British literature class. I taught Robert Browning’s poem “Porphyria’s Lover.” This poem is anthologized in some literature texts and not in others; therefore, if you do not have it in your book, you can download it here: “Porphyria’s Lover” by Robert Browning.

by Robert Browning Escape me? Never— Beloved! While I am I, and you are you, So long as the world contains us both, Me the loving and you the loth, While the one eludes, must the other pursue. My life is a fault at last, I fear: It seems too much like a fate, indeed! Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.

The year’s at the spring And day’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hillside’s dew-pearled; The lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn; God’s in His Heaven; All’s right with the world! -   Robert Browning

Robert Browning Sun: Taurus Ascendant: Aries Moon: Sagittarius More of today’s birthday twins at dlisted Robert Browning is as equally known for his poetry as he is for being one-half of one of the most famous couples in history.

Escape me? Never— Beloved! While I am I, and you are you, So long as the world contains us both, Me the loving and you the loth While the one eludes, must the other pursue. My life is a fault at last, I fear: It seems too much like a fate, indeed! Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.

Oh, to be in England Now that April 's there,And whoever wakes in EnglandSees, some morning, unaware,That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheafRound the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,While the chaffinch sings on the orchard boughIn England—now!

Here’s the sermon from tonight’s service (spiffy audio above). I didn’t feel good giving it at all–completely my fault in not preparing well enough–but the audio turned out better than I had feared.

I am so happy that spring has finally come! what a glorious time it is to see all of God’s creation come to life and bloom in His beauty! I have recently decided I love spring almost as much as I love summer.

I watch as their powers slip away. Their walking is slower and less secure. Shoulders are rounded, posture bent. Once in a while they search their memory for the names of people and places as they speak. They do not hear or see as well as they used to–and these are the well ones.

If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, A wisher, a liar, A hoper, a prayer, A magic bean buyer. If You're a pretender, Come sit by my fire, For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in! So opens one of my most treasured collections of poems by Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends.