Song from Paracelsus

Robert Browning

Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.

Poems by This Author

Life in a Love by Robert Browning
Escape me?
Love in a Life by Robert Browning
Room after room
Meeting at Night by Robert Browning
The gray sea and the long black land
My Last Duchess by Robert Browning
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
My Star by Robert Browning
All, that I know
Rabbi Ben Ezra by Robert Browning
Grow old along with me!
Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister by Robert Browning
Gr-r-r--there go, my heart's abhorrence!
The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning
Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,
Two in the Campagna by Robert Browning
I wonder do you feel to-day
Wanting is — What? by Robert Browning
Wanting is -- what