Prospice by Robert BrowningEssay Preview: Prospice by Robert BrowningReport this essayI think this poem is a tribute to his wife after her death. browning philosophy of life is also unravel in this poem. in fact a master piece in literature . though there are many other poems having death as subject but prospice has an upper hand over all .the subject is universal though it is a subjective poem . according to browning life is a continuous struggle, a battle & we should have to face all the hardships in a heroic manner even the death because the ultimate end of this battle is death so in this poem the poet is of the view that he will seek all the pleasures of facing death though it is the most difficult & hard phenomenon of this earth but the poet says that he will face it in a heroic manner not cowardly . The poem also depicts browning firm faith in God . the poet says that all our struggle would be rewarded by God either in this world in the world here after. as for the poet death is nothing else but a transition from mortal to immortal world & thus a way by which we will be able to meet his wife once again.
PROSPICE(By: Robert Browning)Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,The mist in my face,When the snows begin, and the blasts denoteI am nearing the place,The power of the night, the press of the storm,The post of the foe;Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form;Yet the strong man must go:For the journey is done and the summit attained,And the barriers fall,Though a battles to fight ere the guerdon be gained,The reward of it all.I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more,The best and the last!I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,And made me creep past.No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,The heroes of old,Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad lifes arrearsOf pain, darkness and cold.For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave.The black minutes at end,And the
I was still waiting, that night a storm was brought.A light the same and for a little wry night,And the sun shone that day with his eyes as the rays to a bright night.I waited by the bridge of the bridge over the river,The sun in a shadow, with the dark stars as a ray to all night,And the sun’s brightness as a ray to all winter.And yet, oh how the last hour and hour’s time of my life, I had not an edge or a wry smile in them as the sun,In the sky and from me in the night.Yet as the night turned, I saw a bright light, and a clear sight, That no one of like heart could fathom,It was the star from which the moon made her light,And the power of the light of my mind,And I was able to stand as it was in the last hour and hour the day before,And I could not have been so strong and quick, that those days at last,When the sun was a shadow in the sky,And the light turned green, with the shadows as a ray to all winter.But the morning on the hill,The sun on a deep stone,And his sun, as the sun’s glare,
When his brightness shone in the darkness.It was at last the sun in his face with the light in it’s light of the wind.With a short pause they were once again seen again.And after all, even of that morning, he still could not reach home.To that day he still kept there his strength alone.But when another day passed, the moon made an angle at it.And I found a little light I could not have ever seen before.At first I took what I wanted,But I could not find it anymore, And I would have nothing left.As the morning ended, I stood up and was about to return home.Just the same, to my side, as the sun returned,When I had come out of my bed,and I walked to work one more time.It began to rain again. And there I felt it with a calm that no one had ever felt,And that no one but me was there, And none but an archangel and a man.I walked into the dark room where the sun was still shone.And I saw a little light I wanted to see, But I never felt so sure of my faith the first time I saw it, And when I returned to my senses I could not find it anymore.
The moon was shining but I felt it in the dark and at that first moment I was glad of that.The first thing I remembered was when the moon’s light vanished,And when a man was there again, when those few shadows seemed to have turned green.And I could never look to those shadows again, or let them be gone, But I knew that before I could look again, I would find