Her — “last Poems” —
Poets — ended —
Silver — perished — with her Tongue —
Not on Record — bubbled other,
Flute — or Woman —
So divine —
Not unto its Summer — Morning
Robin — uttered Half the Tune —
Gushed too free for the Adoring —
From the Anglo-Florentine —
Late — the Praise —
‘Tis dull — conferring
On the Head too High to Crown —
Diadem — or Ducal Showing —
Be its Grave — sufficient sign —
Nought — that We — No Poet’s Kinsman —
Suffocate — with easy woe —
What, and if, Ourself a Bridegroom —
Put Her down — in Italy?

5 Comments

  1. frumpo says:

    Praise for the best poetess, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

  2. Jonathon says:

    I would like to say that I think this poem makes no sense at all. It just looks like a bunch of random fragments.

  3. chandra says:

    this poem is awsome dude…………it rox my world

  4. MiKayla says:

    This is a great poem!!!!!!!!

  5. Adrianna says:

    I like the poem but I have no feeling at all about, poems you are supposed to relate to and I don’t feel that it relates to me. Other than that you are teriffic and inspiring

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