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Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning By Robert Browning Characters: 590

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:04


Not but that you know me! Lo, the moon's self!

Here in London, yonder late in Florence,145

Still we find her face, the thrice-transfigured.

Curving on a sky imbrued with color,

Drifted over Fiesole by twilight,

Came she, our new crescent of a hair's-breadth.

Full she flared it

, lamping Samminiato,150

Rounder 'twixt the cypresses and rounder,

Perfect till the nightingales applauded.

Now, a piece of her old self, impoverished,

Hard to greet, she traverses the house-roofs,

Hurries with unhandsome thrift of silver,155

Goes dispiritedly, glad to finish.

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