Poems about breathless (38 Poems)
The Statue and the Bust (Robert Browning Poem)
There’s a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story of both do our townsmen tell. Ages ago, a lady there, At the farthest window facing the East, Asked, “Who … Continue reading
The Flight Of The Duchess (Robert Browning Poem)
I. You’re my friend: I was the man the Duke spoke to; I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too; So here’s the tale from beginning to end, My friend! II. Ours is a great wild country: If … Continue reading
Fra Lippo Lippi (Robert Browning Poem)
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! You need not clap your torches to my face. Zooks, what’s to blame? you think you see a monk! What, ’tis past midnight, and you go the rounds, And here you catch … Continue reading
The Englishman In Italy (Robert Browning Poem)
(PIANO DI SORRENTO.) Fortu, Frotu, my beloved one, Sit here by my side, On my knees put up both little feet! I was sure, if I tried, I could make you laugh spite of Scirocco; Now, open your eyes- Let … Continue reading
Love Among The Ruins (Robert Browning Poem)
I Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward thro’ the twilight, stray or stop As they crop- Was the site once of a city great and gay, … Continue reading
Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror (John Ashbery Poem)
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as though to protect What it advertises. A few leaded panes, old beams, Fur, pleated muslin, a coral ring run together … Continue reading
Cadmus and Harmonia (Matthew Arnold Poem)
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; and there The sunshine in the happy glens is fair, And by the sea, and in the brakes. The grass is cool, the sea-side … Continue reading
Love Among the Ruins (Robert Browning Poem)
I. Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles, Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward thro’ the twilight, stray or stop As they crop— Was the site once of a city great and gay, … Continue reading