Cimitero degli Inglesi

Eternal resting place of Elizabeth Barret Browning

When this plot of green was nestled up against the city's medieval walls—built by a Swiss Evangelical sect for the burial of non-Catholics (so not just Protestants, but also members of the Russian Orthodox and Greek Orthodox churches)—it was indeed a quiet, shady, and reflective spot.

When those walls were demolished in the late 19th century and the boulevard Viale put in their place, it became a traffic circle instead.

Among those buried here are the English novelist Frances Trollope, Louise Adams (sister to Henry Adams), and frail and gentle Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who died in Florence on 29 June, 1861 at the age of 55. Her tomb is off the left of the main path.

(Odd aside: The sepulcher was designed by fellow poet, artist, and English Italophile, Sir Frederic Leighton, who had the qquirky honor of holding the shortest-lived British peerage in history; he died the day after being created a baron.)

Elizabeth—sickly ever since a child, and suffering from bouts of tubuerculousis since her 20s—died in the arms of her husband, fellow poet Robert Browning. he later wrote that she died, "smilingly, happily, and with a face like a girl's. … Her last word was … 'Beautiful'".

Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote much, but most famously this:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

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