this is more than can always be said of the lyrical pieces. Now, for
the first time, in dealing with this first period, excluding
'Sordello,' we strike difficulty. The Chinese puzzle comes in. We
wonder whether it all turns on the punctuation. And the awkward thing
for Mr. Browning's reputation is this, that these bewildering poems
are, for the most part, very short. We say awkward, for it is not more
certain that Sarah Gamp liked her beer drawn mild, than it is that
your Englishman likes his poetry cut short; and so, accordingly, it
often happens that some estimable paterfamilias takes up an odd volume
of Browning his volatile son or moonstruck daughter has left lying
about, pishes and pshaws! and then, with an air of much condescension
and amazing candour, remarks that he will give the fellow another
chance, and not condemn him unread. So saying, he opens the book, and
carefully selects the very shortest poem he can find; and in a moment,
without sign or signal, note or warning, the unhappy man is
floundering up to his neck in lines like these, which are the third
and final stanza of a poem called 'Another Way of Love':

'And after, for pastime,
If June be refulgent
With flowers in completeness,
All petals, no prickles,
Delicious as trickles
Of wine poured at mass-time,
And choose One indulgent
To redness and sweetness;
Or if with experience of man and of spider,
She use my June lightning, the strong insect-ridder
To stop the fresh spinning,--why June will consider.'