With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature.
Elizabeth Barrett BrowningXI I sang his name instead of song; Over and over I sang his name: Backward and forward I sang it along, With my sweetest notes, it was still the same! I sang it low, that the slave-girls near Might never guess, from what they could hear, That all the song was a name.
Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThere are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still; the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning