Browning's Shorter Poems

(Prologue to “The Two Poets of Croisic.”)

Such a starved bank of moss
  Till, that May-morn,
Blue ran the flash across: 
  Violets were born!

Sky—­what a scowl of cloud
  Till, near and far,
Ray on ray split the shroud: 
  Splendid, a star!

World—­how it walled about
  Life with disgrace, 10
Till God’s own smile came out: 
  That was thy face!

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