Stick crosswise i’ the throat, go gulp, shed tears,
But blame us not! So runs the opening:
......
This bard’s a Browning! there’s no doubt of that;
But, ah, ye gods, the sense! Are we so sure
If sense be sense unto our common-sense,
Low sense to higher, high to low, no sense
All sense to those, all sense no sense to these?
That’s where your poet tells! and you’ve no right
(Insensate sense with sensuous thought being mixed)