To George Sand: A Recognition

True genius, but true woman! dost deny
The woman's nature with a manly scorn
And break away the gauds and armlets worn
By weaker women in captivity?
Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry
Is sobbed in by a woman's voice forlorn,
Thy woman's hair, my sister, all unshorn
Floats back dishevelled strength in agony
Disproving thy man's name: and while before
The world thou burnest in a poet-fire,
We see thy woman-heart beat evermore
Through the large flame. Beat purer, heart, and higher,
Till God unsex thee on the heavenly shore
Where unincarnate spirits purely aspire!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an English poet of the Victorian era, celebrated for her romantic and passionate poetry. Born in 1806, she gained early fame with her collection 'Poems' in 1844, which caught the attention of fellow poet Robert Browning. The two poets married in 1846 and lived in Italy for most of their lives. Elizabeth's most famous work, 'Sonnets from the Portuguese,' explores her profound love for Robert. She died in 1861 and remains a significant figure in English literature.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A Year's Spinning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Simple Poetry

A Curse For A Nation

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Simple Poetry

The Runaway Slave At Pilgrim's Point

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Simple Poetry

De Profundis

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Simple Poetry

English

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To George Sand: A Desire

Thou large-brained woman and large-hearted man,
Self-called George Sand! whose soul, amid the lions
Of thy tumultuous senses, moans defiance
And answers roar for roar, as spirits can:
I would some mild miraculous thunder ran
Above the applauded circus, in appliance
Of thine own nobler nature's strength and science,
Drawing two pinions, white as wings of swan,
From thy strong shoulders, to amaze the place
With holier light! that thou to woman's claim
And man's, mightst join beside the angel's grace
Of a pure genius sanctified from blame
Till child and maiden pressed to thine embrace
To kiss upon thy lips a stainless fame.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

To Woman.

Woman! experience might have told me
That all must love thee, who behold thee:
Surely experience might have taught
Thy firmest promises are nought;
But, plac'd in all thy charms before me,
All I forget, but to adore thee.
Oh memory! thou choicest blessing,
When join'd with hope, when still possessing;
But how much curst by every lover
When hope is fled, and passion's over.
Woman, that fair and fond deceiver,
How prompt are striplings to believe her!
How throbs the pulse, when first we view
The eye that rolls in glossy blue,
Or sparkles black, or mildly throws
A beam from under hazel brows!
How quick we credit every oath,
And hear her plight the willing troth!
Fondly we hope 'twill last for ay,
When, lo! she changes in a day.
This record wil...

George Gordon Byron

Ballade Of Woman

A woman! lightly the mysterious word
Falls from our lips, lightly as though we knew
Its meaning, as we say - a flower, a bird,
Or say the moon, the stream, the light, the dew,
Simple familiar things, mysterious too;
Or as a star is set down on a chart,
Named with a name, out yonder in the blue:
A woman - and yet how much more thou art!

So lightly spoken, and so lightly heard,
And yet, strange word, who shall thy sense construe?
What sage hath yet fit designation dared?
Yet I have sought the dictionaries through,
And of thy meaning found me not a clue;
Blessing and breaking still the firmest heart,
So fairy false, yet so divinely true:
A woman - and yet how much more thou art!

Mother of God, and Circe, bosom-bared,
That nursed our manhood, and ...

Richard Le Gallienne

The Lady And The Painter

She. Yet womanhood you reverence,
So you profess!

He. With heart and soul.

She. Of which fact this is evidence!
To help Art-study, for some dole
Of certain wretched shillings, you
Induce a woman, virgin too
To strip and stand stark-naked?

He. True.

She. Nor feel you so degrade her?

He. What
(Excuse the interruption), clings
Half-savage-like around your hat?

She. Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird-wings!
Next season, Paris-prints assert,
We must go feathered to the skirt:
My modiste keeps on the alert.
Owls, hawks, jays, swallows most approve.

He. Dare I speak plainly?

She. Oh, I trust!

He. Then, Lady Blanche, it less wo...

Robert Browning

Woman.

Ah, woman!--in this world of ours,
    What boon can be compared to thee?--
How slow would drag life's weary hours,
Though man's proud brow were bound with flowers,
    And his the wealth of land and sea,
If destined to exist alone,
And ne'er call woman's heart his own!

My mother!--At that holy name,
    Within my bosom there's a gush
Of feeling, which no time can tame--
A feeling, which, for years of fame,
    I would not, could not, crush!
And sisters!--ye are dear as life;
But when I look upon my wife,
    My heart-blood gives a sudden rush,
And all my fond affections blend
In mother--sisters--wife and friend!

Yes, woman's love is free from guile,
    And pure as bright Aurora's ray;
The heart will melt before her smile,
    ...

George Pope Morris

A Woman's Shortcomings

She has laughed as softly as if she sighed,
She has counted six, and over,
Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried,
Oh, each a worthy lover!
They "give her time"; for her soul must slip
Where the world has set the grooving;
She will lie to none with her fair red lip:
But love seeks truer loving.

She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb,
As her thoughts were beyond recalling;
With a glance for one, and a glance for some,
From her eyelids rising and falling;
Speaks common words with a blushful air,
Hears bold words, unreproving;
But her silence says, what she never will swear,
And love seeks better loving.

Go, lady! lean to the night-guitar,
And drop a smile to the bringer;
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
At the voice of ...

Elizabeth Barrett Browning