RobertBrowning
That’smylastDuchesspaintedonthewall,
Thatpieceawonder, now: FraPandolf’shands
Workedbusilyaday, andthereshestands.
Will’tpleaseyousitandlookather? Isaid
“FraPandolf” bydesign, forneverread
Strangerslikeyouthatpicturedcountenance,
Thedepthandpassionofitsearnestglance,
Buttomyselftheyturned (sincenoneputsby
ThecurtainIhavedrawnforyou, butI)
Andseemedastheywouldaskme, iftheydurst,
Howsuchaglancecamethere; so, notthefirst
, ’twasnot
Herhusband’spresenceonly, calledthatspot
OfjoyintotheDuchess’cheek: perhaps
FraPandolfchancedtosay “Hermantlelaps
Overmylady’swristtoomuch,”or “Paint
Mustneverhopetoreproducethefaint
Half-flushthatdiesalongherthroat”: suchstuff
Wascourtesy, shethought, andcauseenough
Aheart—howshallIsay?—toosoonmadeglad,
Tooeasilyimpressed; shelikedwhate’er
Shelookedon, andherlookswenteverywhere.
Sir, ’twasallone! Myfavouratherbreast,
ThedroppingofthedaylightintheWest,
Theboughofcherriessomeofficiousfool
Brokeintheorchardforher, thewhitemule
Sherodewithroundtheterrace—allandeach
Woulddrawfromheraliketheapprovingspeech,
Orblush, ,—good! butthanked
Somehow—Iknownothow—asifsheranked
Mygiftofanine-hundred-years-oldname
Withanybody’’dstooptoblame
Thissortoftrifling? Evenhadyouskill
Inspeech—(whichIhavenot)—tomakeyourwill
Quitecleartosuchanone, andsay, “Justthis
Orthatinyoudisgustsme; hereyoumiss,
Orthereexceedthemark” —andifshelet
Herselfbelessonedso, norplainlyset
Herwitstoyours, forsooth, andmadeexcuse,
