 | The Poetical Works of Robert Browning |  |
IX.
“Re-enter, sir! A hand that's calm, not rash,
Averts it!” quietly the lady said.
“Yourself shall witness.”
Averts it!” quietly the lady said.
“Yourself shall witness.”
At the table's head
Where, mid the hushed guests, still the duke sat glued
In blank bewilderment, his spouse pursued
Her speech to end—syllabled quietude.
Where, mid the hushed guests, still the duke sat glued
In blank bewilderment, his spouse pursued
Her speech to end—syllabled quietude.
| The Poetical Works of Robert Browning | |