Specula
Sir Thomas Brown
When He appoints to meet thee, go thou forth It matters not If south or north, Bleak waste or sunny plot. Nor think, if haply He thou seekst be late, He does thee wrong. To stile or gate Lean thou thy head, and long! It may be that to spy thee He is mounting Upon a tower, Or in thy counting Thou hast mistaen the hour. But, if He comes not, neither do thou go Till Vesper chime. Belike thou then shalt know He hath been with thee all the time.
Next 10 Poems
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Child Asleep
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Child's Thought Of God
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Curse For A Nation
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Dead Rose
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Man's Requirements
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Musical Instrument
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Sea-side Walk
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Thought For A Lonely Death-bed
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Woman's Shortcomings
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning : A Year's Spinning
Previous 10 Poems
- Sir Thomas Brown : Salve!
- Sir Thomas Brown : Risus Dei
- Sir Thomas Brown : Pain
- Sir Thomas Brown : Opifex
- Sir Thomas Brown : My Garden
- Sir Thomas Brown : Land, Ho!
- Sir Thomas Brown : Jessie
- Sir Thomas Brown : If Thou Could'st Empty All Thyself Of Self
- Sir Thomas Brown : Ibant Obscur
- Sir Thomas Brown : I Bended Unto Me A Bough