He wrote to a friend, 'Somehow a stubble plain looks warm-in the same way that some pictures look warm-this struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it.' He was 23 years old and near the end of his very short career.

On this day in 1819 the young poet John Keats took a trip to Winchester, England and wrote a poem called 'To Autumn.' The idea for it came while he was out walking in the countryside. Elizabeth's father never spoke to her again. Elizabeth's father didn't want her to marry, so they courted in secret and eloped to Florence the following year, where they spent the rest of their married life. love these books with all my heart-and I love you too.' Elizabeth was alarmed by how direct he was, and she wrote to a friend that his letter 'threw (her) into ecstasies.' Over the next twenty months, Elizabeth and Robert exchanged 574 letters. He wrote her a telegram that said, 'I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett. In 1844, Robert Browning read a newly published collection of poems by Elizabeth Barrett. Elizabeth Barrett was thirty-eight years old, constantly sick, and living under the care of her overprotective father. Robert Browning was a struggling poet at the time: his latest book, Sordello, had gotten horrible reviews, and people accused him of being too obscure. It's the anniversary of the day in 1846 that poets Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning eloped.

I shall but love thee better after death. Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose, With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath, In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight I love thee to the depth and breadth and height How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Poem: 'XLIII,' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Sonnets from the Portuguese and Other Love Poems (Random House). Sonnet 43: How do I love thee, let me count the ways

Sonnets from the portuguese 43