Showing posts with label Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Show all posts

Thursday, August 19, 2021

"The Look" and "The Meaning of the Look" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 


Artwork by Eero Jarnefelt

The Look

The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word,
No gesture of reproach; the Heavens serene
Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean
Their thunders that way: the forsaken Lord
Looked only, on the traitor. None record
What that look was, none guess; for those who have seen
Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,
Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,
Have missed Jehovah at the judgment call.
And Peter, from the height of blasphemy --
'I never knew this man' -- did quail and fall
As knowing straight THAT God; and turned free
And went out speechless from the face of all,
And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.

The Meaning of the Look

I think that look of Christ might seem to say --
'Thou Peter! art thou then a common stone
Which I at last must break my heart upon,
For all God's charge to his high angels may
Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday
Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run
Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun?
And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?
The cock crows coldly. -- Go, and manifest
A late contrition, but no bootless fear!
For when thy final need is dreariest,
Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here;
My voice to God and angels shall attest,
Because I KNOW this man, let him be clear.'

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from POEMS, 1844~

BIO: Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born on March 6, 1806 and died June 29, 1861. During the Victorian age, she was considered England's Greatest Living Poet. This was a rare honor for a woman as women did not have the rights and privileges that they enjoy today. By her teen years, Barrett had been self-taught in Greek and Latin, with an adequate knowledge of Greek and Roman literature. Many of her poems refer to heroes and philosophers from Greek and Roman culture. She suffered a spinal injury and became an invalid. Later on, she developed lung problems which may have been due to tuberculosis. She was confined to the house, where she read books and wrote poetry. She would later admit that "books and dreams were what I lived in and domestic life only seemed to buzz gently around, like bees about the grass." She was living with her family at 50 Wimpole Street, London, when the poet Robert Browning discovered her book, Poems, published in 1844. He wrote to her in January of 1845, saying, "I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett." Their love affair progressed against the wishes of her father, and they were secretly married on September 12, 1846. 

During their courtship, Barrett wrote her most beautiful collection of poems, thanking her husband for loving her in spite of her disability and age (she was six years older than her husband.) She finally showed them to him several years later. He persuaded her to include them in her upcoming collection of poetry, Poems, which was published in 1850. These love poems are now known as Sonnets from the Portuguese and include her most famous poem, "How do I Love Thee?"



Saturday, February 20, 2016

British Love Poems

 
 



Sonnet XLIII

from Sonnets from the Portuguese

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)~

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

~Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593)~

Jenny Kiss'd Me

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
     Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
     Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
     Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
     Jenny kiss'd me.

~Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)~

So We'll Go No More a Roving

So we'll go no more a roving
     So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
     And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
     And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
     And Love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
     And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
     By the light of the moon.

~George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)~