Robert Browning

What’s a man’s age? He must hurry more, that’s all Cram in a day, what…

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew…

Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once…

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death…

If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God…

So, fall asleep love, loved by me… for I know love, I am loved by…

It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible…

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay…