The adulteress lies imprisoned, — whether in a well With bricks above and a snake for company, Or tied by a garter to a bed-post - Robert Browning

There is but one way to brow-beat this world,
Dumb-founder doubt, and repay scorn in kind, — To go on trusting, namely, till faith move Mountains.

So, I soberly laid my last plan
To extinguish the man.
Round his creep-hole, with never a break
Ran my fires for his sake;
Over-head, did my thunder combine
With my under-ground mine:
Till I looked from my labour content
To enjoy the event.

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brush-wood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf.