Robert Browning

(1812-1889 / London / England)

Robert Browning Poems

1. Bad Dreams: III 5/28/2015
2. Pheidippides 12/10/2015
3. Tray 5/27/2015
4. Bad Dreams: I 5/28/2015
5. How It Strikes a Contemporary 6/8/2015
6. Introduction: Pippa Passes 4/7/2010
7. Christmas-Eve 4/7/2010
8. Herve Riel 4/7/2010
9. Fears And Scruples 4/7/2010
10. Heap Cassia, Sandal-Buds And Stripes 1/3/2003
11. O' Lyric Love 4/7/2010
12. Master Hugues Of Saxe-Gotha 5/13/2001
13. Easter-Day 4/7/2010
14. Thus The Mayne Glideth 1/4/2003
15. Cavalier Tunes: Give A Rouse 1/1/2004
16. Natural Magic 4/7/2010
17. Cavalier Tunes: Boot And Saddle 1/1/2004
18. Over The Sea Our Galleys Went 1/1/2004
19. Through The Metidja To Abd-El-Kadr 5/13/2001
20. Song From 'Paracelsus' 1/4/2003
21. Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along 1/1/2004
22. The Heretic's Tragedy 5/13/2001
23. The Englishman In Italy 5/13/2001
24. A Cavalier Song 4/7/2010
25. To Edward Fitzgerald 12/31/2002
26. One Word More 4/7/2010
27. The Glove 5/13/2001
28. Count Gismond--Aix In Provence 1/1/2004
29. The Italian In England 5/13/2001
30. Cavalier Tunes 5/13/2001
31. Up At A Villa--Down In The City 1/1/2004
32. The Confessional 5/13/2001
33. Verse-Making Was Least Of My Virtues 1/3/2003
34. Respectability 5/13/2001
35. Misconceptions 5/13/2001
36. Overhead The Tree-Tops Meet 1/3/2003
37. Song 5/13/2001
38. Saul 5/13/2001
39. Cleon 1/1/2004
40. Old Pictures In Florence 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

Italian In England, The

That second time they hunted me
From hill to plain, from shore to sea,
And Austria, hounding far and wide
Her blood-hounds thro' the country-side,
Breathed hot and instant on my trace,---
I made six days a hiding-place
Of that dry green old aqueduct
Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked
The fire-flies from the roof above,

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