Is Blogging Browning?
My life has not been that of those whose heaven
Was lampless save where poesy shone out;
But as a clime where glittering mountain-tops
And glancing sea and forests steeped in light
Give back reflected the far-flashing sun;
For music (which is earnest of a heaven,
See we know emotions strange by it,
Not else to be revealed,) it is like a voice
A low voice calling fancy, as a friend,
To the green woods in the gay summer time:
And she fills all the way with dancing shapes
Which have made painters pale, and they go on
Till stars look at them and winds to call them
As they leaves life’s path for the twilight world
Where the dead gather. This was not at first,
For scarce I knew what I would do. I had
An impulse but no yearning—only sang.And first I sang as I in dream have seen
Music wait on a lyrist for some thought,
Yet singing to herself until it came.
Robert Browning, Pauline 360-379
