Robert Browning

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Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,

And did he stop and speak to you?

And did you speak to him again?

How strange it seems, and new!

But you were living before that,

And you are living after,

And the memory I started at—

My starting moves your laughter!

I crossed a moor, with a name of its own

And a certain use in the world no doubt,

Yet a hand’s-breadth of it shines alone

’Mid the blank miles round about:

For there I picked up on the heather

And there I put inside my breast

A moulted feather, an eagle-feather—

Well, I forget the rest.

Memorabilia

Oh, to be in England,

Now that April’s there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England - now!

And after April, when May follows,

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows -

Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops - at the bent spray’s edge -

That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups, the little children’s dower,

- Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

Home-Thoughts, From Abroad

Robert Browning

4th Period

By: JACKIE ROBLES

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Status Update

Lived In

• Born in Camberwell, England

• Died in Venice, Italy

According to historical anecdote, this poem stems from an encounter Browning had with a person who had once met the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (Shelley died quite young, when Browning himself was only ten). Browning reacted with awe when the man described his meeting with the famed poet, and the man is said to have laughed at him for this reaction. This short lyric relates Browning’s feelings about this encounter to his feelings at walking across a moor and finding an eagle’s feather

“Home-Thoughts, From Abroad” celebrates the everyday and the domestic, taking the form of a short lyric. The poet casts himself in the role of the homesick traveler, longing for every detail of his beloved home. At this point in his career, Browning had spent quite a bit of time in Italy, so perhaps the longing for England has a bit of biographical urgency attached to it. The poem describes a typical springtime scene in the English countryside, with birds singing and flowers blooming. Browning tries to make the ordinary magical, as he describes the thrush’s ability to recreate his transcendental song over and over again.

My name is Robert Browning and I was born on May 7th, 1812 in Camberwell, England. I enjoy reading and learning different languages. When I was young, I was tutored at home until 1828, then I went to the University of London. However, the education there was a little too slow for me so I left and studied at my own pace. I resumed writing poetry when I was older and read many poems by Elizabeth Barrett. We communicated through letters until we finally met and married against her father’s wishes in 1846. Later on we moved to Italy and had a son, Robert “Pen”. After only 20 years of marriage, she died in my arms and I was heartbroken. I moved back to London with my son and now I am looking for someone new in my life. Send me a smile:)

Work Experience

Summary

• I was a poet for all my life.
• I depended on my family and later my marriage to support me while I wrote lyrics and poems.
• I also was a playwright.
• I'm best known for my dramatic monologues.

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No! Percy Shelly I can't believe you're gone! #biggestinspiration

Education

Percy Shelly, 30, Drowns in Italy

• Taught at a young age by my father.
• 1-2 private schools, but I hated it
• Hired a tutor so I could study at home using my father's elaborate library
• Age 14, I became fluent in French, Greek, Italian and Latin
• 1828, I attended the University of London, but the education there was too slow so I decided to study at my own pace by myself

The famed Percy Shelley has perished in a horrific boating accident.

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“Memorabilia” consists of four four-line stanzas, written in iambic tetrameter. The stanzas rhyme ABAB. The form appears frequently in William Wordsworth’s lyrics, and this poem does have an almost Wordsworthian outlook: it is contemplative and spiritual, and parallels the natural world to the human one.

Except for the poem’s rhyme scheme and number of lines, it resembles an inverted sonnet: it divides into two sections, each of which is characterized by its own tone. The first, shorter stanza establishes the emotional tenor of the poem—the speaker longs for his home. This section contains two trimeter lines, followed by two tetrameter lines, three pentameter lines, and a final trimeter line; it rhymes ABABCCDD. The metrical pattern and the rhyme scheme give it a sort of rising and falling sense that mirrors the emotional rise and fall of the poem’s central theme: the burst of joy at thinking of home, then the resignation that home lies so far away.

The second section is longer, and consists almost entirely of pentameter lines, save the eighth line, which is tetrameter. It rhymes AABCBCDDEEFF.

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#tbt to the beautiful Elizabeth Browning alive. Maybe this eHarmony thing will help me find someone just as beautiful.

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About Me

Occupation: Poet/ Playwrite / Lyricist

Age: 203

Height: Fairly Tall

Wants Kids: Yes

Kids At Home: Yes, Robert “Pen” Barrett Browning

Ethnicity: British

Religion: Atheist

Drinks: Moderate

Smoke: No

Match Delivered: September 1846, Eloped

Frozen Heart

It was true love,

I saw it in his eyes,

The snow fell the color of a dove,

He told me he grew up with twelve guys,

Little did I know, my kingdom was nothing but a prize,

I should have known it was a trick,

I shouldn't have been so naive,

Now the thought of Hans makes me sick,

On the coronation eve,

The chocolate fondue needed a poisonous kick,

And then when I was cold and freezing,

He left me to die,

The door locked shut as I was wheezing,

Now the thought of sandwiches makes me want to cry,

I'm glad he is gone,

Arendelle, is once again at peace,

Without the presence of Satan's spawn,

It was true love, until ice settled on his heart's lawn.

He was thick skinned and a creep,

Much like a reptile,

His motives were cheap,

But now he is in exile,

Forever creating textile