Saturday, 3 March 2012
11 January 1845. Browning, Elizabeth Barrett to Browning, Robert. :: The Browning Letters
Jan 11. 1845- I thank you, dear Mr Browning, from the bottom of my heart. You meant to give me pleasure by your letter-and even if the object had not been answered, I ought still to thank you. But it is thoroughly answered. Such a letter from such a hand! Sympathy is dear-very dear to me: but the sympathy of a poet & of such a poet, is the quintessence of sympathy to me! Will you take back my gratitude for it?-agreeing too that, of all the commerce done in the world, from Tyre to Carthage..
27 February 1845. Browning, Elizabeth Barrett to Browning, Robert. :: The Browning Letters
50 Wimpole Street Feb. 27. 1845. Yes, but, dear Mr Browning, I want the spring according to the new ‘style’ (mine) & not the old one of you & the rest of the poets. To me unhappily, the snowdrop is much the same as the snow-it feels as cold underfoot: and I have grown sceptical about “the voice of the turtle,” the east winds blow so loud. April is a Parthian with a dart-& May (at least the early part of it) a spy in the camp- That is my idea of what you call spring,-mine, in the new style! A little later comes my spring,-and indeed after such severe weather, from which I have just escaped with my life, I may thank it for coming at all. How happy you are, to be able to listen to the “birds,” without the commentary of the east wind; which, like other commentaries, spoils the music. And how happy I am to listen to you; when you write such kind openhearted letters to me!- I am delighted to hear all you say to me of yourself.....
Friday, 2 March 2012
Song From A Secret Garden - Violin & Piano
Sunday, 26 February 2012
Selected Love Letters to Fanny Brawne- Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios & More
Postmark: Newport, July 3, 1819
Shanklin, Isle of Wight, Thursday
My dearest Lady — I am glad I had not an opportunity of sending off a Letter which I wrote for you on Tuesday night—'twas too much like one out of Rousseau's Heloise. I am more reasonable this morning. The morning is the only proper time for me to write to a beautiful Girl whom I love so much: for at night, when the lonely day has closed, and the lonely, silent, unmusical Chamber is waiting to receive me as into a Sepulchre, then believe me my passion gets entirely the sway, then I would not have you see those Rhapsodies which I once thought it impossible I should ever give way to, and which I have often laughed at in another, for fear you should [think me] either too unhappy or perhaps a little mad.
by Keats