Poet of the Month / February, 2000
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Contents of Page

Introduction

Biographical Notes

Poem: Sonnet XLIII

Poem: A Dead Rose

Poem: Sonnet XLIV

Other Pages on Elizabeth Barrett Browning



Introduction.


It has become popular to discount the contribution of the Romantic English poets to the world of literature. Their verse, often seen as overly sentimental, is quite personal and seems to stem, as Wordsworth would have put, "a boiling up of emotion." Yet, sometimes they hit that cord that rings true in us--they put words in our mouths, say what we would say, express more completely what we feel. It is for the cause of their contribution, in fact, that many of us read and write poetry, sometimes defining it in terms of their work.

One of the most difficult and yet most well-written about subjects explored by the Romantic poets is love. They wrote expressions of love for Nature, for God, or for another human being, most often expressions of lover to beloved. Thus, in honor of the month most of us associate with romantic love, February, we explore the verse of one the most well-known poets of love poetry in the English language, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. --by AngelPie_Mouse


Biographical Notes.


Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born in Coxhoe, Durham in 1806. She was privately educated and lived with her very dominating father. Due to a spinal injury and lung disease she was homebound and incapacitated in 1838. During her illness she continued writing. In 1844 produced a literary work which encluded a poem entitled “Cry of the Children” an another entitled “Lady Geraldine’s Lover” with an American edition with an introduction by Edgar Alan Poe.

Her poems were so impressive that she was considered Poet Laureate of England in 1850 when William Wordsworth died. An impressive time in her life came when the English Poet, Robert Browning began to write Elizabeth and praise her poems. Their romance, reknowned in the work by Rudolph Besier in his work, “The Barretts of Wimpol Street” was opposed by her father. Inspite of her father’s oppossiton Elizabeth and Robert eloped and moved to Florence, Italy where Elizabeth regained her health and bore her son at the age of 43.

Elizabeth dedicated one of her most famous works, “Sonnets From the Portuguese” to her husband. This work of literary art was a series of love lyrics. Elizabeth continued to write fine poetry. She expressed her sympathy and desire in the struggle for the unification of Italy in her work, “Gasa Guidi Windows” (1848-1851) and “Poems Before Congress (1860). Her longest work was “Aurora Leigh”, a romantic poem done in blank verse. In this work she defends a woman’s right to intellectual freedom and the concern of women poets and artists.-- by MGonzalez01


Bibliography

  • The Battle of Marathon, c. 1818 (age 12).
  • "The Rose and Zephyr," first published work, appears in 1825 Literary Gazette.
  • An Essay on Mind (poems), 1826
  • Prometheus Bound (translation of Aeschylus), 1833
  • The Seraphim and Other Poems, 1838
  • "The Cry of the Children" published, 1842
  • Poems, 1844
  • Poems (includes the Sonnets from the Portuguese), 1850.
  • Casa Guidi Windows, 1851
  • Aurora Leigh, 1857
  • Poems Before Congress, 1860
  • Last Poems (including "De Profundis") published posthumously, 1862


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One of the best loved love poems of all time comes from the 1850 publication of Sonnets from the Portuguese, written to her husband Robert Browning.


Sonnet XLIII

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 every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a 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.


[presented by MGonzalez01]


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A Dead Rose

O Rose! who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet;
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat,---
Kept seven years in a drawer---thy titles shame thee.
 

The breeze that used to blow thee
Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away
An odour up the lane to last all day,---
If breathing now,---unsweetened would forego thee.
 

The sun that used to smite thee,
And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn,
Till beam appeared to bloom, and flower to burn,---
If shining now,---with not a hue would light thee.
 

The dew that used to wet thee,
And, white first, grow incarnadined, because
It lay upon thee where the crimson was,---
If dropping now,---would darken where it met thee.
 

The fly that lit upon thee,
To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet,
Along thy leaf's pure edges, after heat,---
If lighting now,---would coldly overrun thee.
 

The bee that once did suck thee,
And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive,
And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,---
If passing now,---would blindly overlook thee.
 

The heart doth recognise thee,
Alone, alone! The heart doth smell thee sweet,
Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,---
Though seeing now those changes that disguise thee.
 

Yes, and the heart doth owe thee
More love, dead rose! than to such roses bold
As Julia wears at dances, smiling cold!---
Lie still upon this heart---which breaks below thee!


[presented by MGonzalez01]


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Sonnet XLIV

Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine,
Here 's ivy !--take them, as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colors true,
And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine.


[presented by MGonzalez01]


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Elizabeth Barrett
Browning
(1806-1861)
Links:

Message #
Read More About Elizabeth Barrett Browning
AngelPie_Mouse (na/F/Los Angeles, CA, USA) 02/02/2000 07:57 am EDT

The following URLs come from the listing of FAMILIAR AND FAVORITE POETS on our own website (http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Bistro/2298). We invite you to check them out and read more about Elizabeth Barrett Browning (also, please let us know if you have any difficulties with these sites).

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