Robert Browning (1812-1889)
Song
1Nay but you, who do not love her,
2 Is she not pure gold, my mistress?
3Holds earth aught --- speak truth --- above her?
4 Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
5And this last fairest tress of all,
6So fair, see, ere I let it fall?
7Because, you spend your lives in praising;
8 To praise, you search the wide world over:
9Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
10 If earth holds aught --- speak truth --- above her?
11Above this tress, and this, I touch
12But cannot praise, I love so much!
Online text copyright © 2011, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.
Original text: Robert Browning, The Poetical Works of Robert Browning (London: Smith, Elder, & Co., 1888), 6: 47.
First publication date:
1845
RPO poem editor: Marc R. Plamondon
RP edition: 2005
Recent editing: 2:2005/7/6
Rhyme: ababcc
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