| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Robert Browning. 1812–1889 |
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| 721. Song |
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| 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, | 5 |
| 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? | 10 |
| Above this tress, and this, I touch | |
| But cannot praise, I love so much! | |
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