All, that I know Of a certain star Is, it can throw (Like the angled spar) Now a dart of red, Now a dart of blue Till my friends have said They would fain see, too, My star that dartles the red and the blue! Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled: They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it. What matter to me if their star is a world? Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.
Three Poems of Browning , opus 12
by Sidney Homer (1864 - 1953)
1. My star  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Authorship:
- by Robert Browning (1812 - 1889), "My star", appears in Men and Women, first published 1855
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. A woman's last word  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
I. Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before, Love, -- Only sleep! II. What so wild as words are? I and thou In debate, as birds are, Hawk on bough! III. See the creature stalking While we speak! Hush and hide the talking, Cheek on cheek! IV. What so false as truth is, False to thee? Where the serpent's tooth is Shun the tree -- V. Where the apple reddens Never pry -- Lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I. VI. Be a god and hold me With a charm! Be a man and fold me With thine arm! VII. Teach me, only teach, Love As I ought I will speak thy speech, Love, Think thy thought -- VIII. Meet, if thou require it, Both demands, Laying flesh and spirit In thy hands. IX. That shall be to-morrow Not to-night: I must bury sorrow Out of sight: X. -- Must a little weep, Love, (Foolish me!) And so fall asleep, Love, Loved by thee.
Authorship:
- by Robert Browning (1812 - 1889), "A woman's last word"
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. Prospice  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Fear death? -- to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form; Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit attained, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, The reward of it all. I was ever a fighter, so -- one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And made me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave. The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain. Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!
Authorship:
- by Robert Browning (1812 - 1889), "Prospice"
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]