perfect love. But absolute terms are not applicable to man, who is ever
_on the way_ to goodness and truth, progressively manifesting the power
of the ideal that dwells in him, and whose very life is conflict and
acquirement.

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? All is silver-grey
Placid and perfect with my art: the worse."[A]

[Footnote A: _Andrea del Sarto_.]

Hardly any conception is more prominent in Browning's writings than
this, of endless progress towards an infinite ideal; although he
occasionally manifests a desire to have done with effort.

"When a soul has seen
By the means of Evil that Good is best,
And, through earth and its noise, what is heaven's serene,--
When our faith in the same has stood the test--
Why, the child grown man, you burn the rod,
The uses of labour are surely done,
There remaineth a rest for the people of God,
And I have had troubles enough, for one."[B]

[Footnote B: _Old Pictures in Florence_.]

It is the sense of endless onward movement, the outlook towards an
immortal course, "the life after life in unlimited series," which is so
inspiring in his early poetry. He conceives that we are here, on this
lower earth, just to learn one form, the elementary lesson and alphabet