Explore "Evelyn Hope" by Robert Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead! / Sit and watch by her side an hour. / That is her book-shelf, this her bed; / She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, / Beginning to die too, in the glass; / Little has yet been changed, I think: / The shutters are shut, no light may pass / Save two long rays through the hinge's chink.
Sixteen years old when she died! / Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; / It was not her time to love; beside, / Her life had many a hope and aim, / Duties enough and little cares, / And now was quiet, now astir, / Till God's hand beckoned unawares, -- / And the sweet white brow is all of her.