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Robert Browning

Song

NAY but you, who do not love her,
    Is she not pure gold, my mistress?
Holds earth aught—speak truth—above her?
    Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
And this last fairest tress of all,
So fair, see, ere I let it fall?
Because, you spend your lives in praising;
    To praise, you search the wide world over:
Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
    If earth holds aught—speak truth—above her?
Above this tress, and this, I touch
But cannot praise, I love so much!

 
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About the poet
Robert Browning
 
By the same poet
The Pied Piper of Hamelin
Home Thoughts, from Abroad
Home Thoughts, from the Sea
How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix
Song from 'Paracelsus'
The Wanderers
Thus the Mayne glideth
Pippa's Song
You'll love Me yet
Porphyria's Lover
Earl Mertoun's Song
In a Gondola
Meeting at Night
Parting at Morning
The Lost Mistress
The Last Ride together
Misconceptions
 
Related books
Robert Browning at amazon.com


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