Robert Browning
How blind the toil that burrows like the mole,
In winding graveyard pathways underground,
For Browning's lineage! What if men have found
Poor footmen or rich merchants on the roll
Of his forbears? Did they beget his soul?
Nay, for he came of ancestry renowned
Through all the world, -- the poets laurel-crowned
With wreaths from which the autumn takes no toll.
The blazons on his coat-of-arms are these:
The flaming sign of Shelley's heart on fire,
The golden globe of Shakespeare's human stage,
The staff and scrip of Chaucer's pilgrimage,
The rose of Dante's deep, divine desire,
The tragic mask of wise Euripides.
Poem by
Henry Van Dyke
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Henry Van Dyke
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Robert Browning
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Robert Browning here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.