by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 - 1861)
Robert Browning
Language: English
And now I begin to wonder naturally whether I may not be Some sort of a real angel after all. It is not so bad a thing, be sure, for a woman To be loved by a man of imagination. He loves her through a lustrous atmosphere Which not only keeps back the faults but produces Continual novelty through its own changes. If ever a being of a higher order lived among us Without a glory round his head...he is such a being. I feel to have the power of making him happy... I feel to have it in my hands. It is strange that anyone so brilliant should love me. But true and strange it is...it is impossible for me to doubt it anymore. Here am I, in the seventh year of marriage, Happier than on the seventh day! The love not only stays, but grows. He rises on me hour by hour and I am Bound to him indeed with all the cords of my heart. And Papa thinks I have sold my soul -- For genius...mere genius!
Authorship:
- by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 - 1861), from letters written by E. Browning in Florence to her sister Henrietta in England, between 1846 and 1859  [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Dominick Argento (1927 - 2019), "Robert Browning", 1983 [voice and piano or orchestra], from Casa Guidi, no. 3. [ sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2009-10-24
Line count: 20
Word count: 179