Apparitions

Robert Browning

1812 to 1889

Poem Image

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,
Till God's own smile came out:
    That was thy face!