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Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning By Robert Browning Characters: 1030

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:04

Ours is a great wild country:

If you climb to our castle's top,

I don't see where your eye can stop;

For when you've passed the cornfield country,

Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,10

And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,

And cattle-tract to open-chase,

And open-chase to the very base

Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace,

Round about, solemn and slow,15

One by one, row after row,

Up and up the pine-trees go,

So, like black priests up, and so

Down the other

side again

To another greater, wilder country,20

That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain,

Branched through and through with many a vein

Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt;

Look right, look left, look straight before-

Beneath they mine, above they smelt,25

Copper-ore and iron-ore,

And forge and furnace mold and melt

And so on, more and ever more,

Till at the last, for a bounding belt,

Comes the salt sand hoar of the great seashore,30

-And the whole is our Duke's country.

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