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Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861) was an English poet popular in Britain and the United States during her lifetime. Born in County Durham, the eldest of 12 children, Elizabeth Barrett wrote poetry from the age of eleven. At 15 she became ill, suffering intense head and spinal pain for the rest of her life. Later in life she also developed lung problems, possibly tuberculosis. Elizabeth’s volume Poems (1844) brought her great success, attracting the admiration of the writer Robert Browning. Their correspondence, courtship and marriage were carried out in secret, for fear of her father’s disapproval. Following the wedding she was indeed disinherited by her father. The couple moved to Italy in 1846, where she would live for the rest of her life. They had one son, Robert Wiedeman Barrett Browning, whom they called Pen. She died in Florence in 1861.
“I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.”
“Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,—but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.”
“Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father’s name"
“With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature.”
“Love doesn’t make the world go round, Love is what makes the ride worthwhile!”
“Yes, I answered you last night;
No, this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.”
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace."
Code:
- - - - - - -“Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,—but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.”
“Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father’s name"
“With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature.”
“Love doesn’t make the world go round, Love is what makes the ride worthwhile!”
“Yes, I answered you last night;
No, this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.”
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace."