Explore "By the Fireside" by Robert Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How well I know what I mean to do / When the long dark autumn evenings come; / And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? / With the music of all thy voices, dumb / In life's November too!
I shall be found by the fire, suppose, / O'er a great wise book as beseemeth age, / While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, / And I turn the page, and I turn the page, / Not verse now, only prose!