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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116301" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Pretty Woman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,<br> And the blue eye<br> Dear and dewy,<br>And that infantine fresh air of hers!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To think men cannot take you, Sweet,<br> And enfold you,<br> Ay, and hold you,<br>And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You like us for a glance, you know—<br> For a word's sake<br> Or a sword's sake,<br>All's the same, whate'er the chance, you know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in turn we make you ours, we say—<br> You and youth too,<br> Eyes and mouth too,<br>All the face composed of flowers, we say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All's our own, to make the most of, Sweet—<br> Sing and say for,<br> Watch and pray for,<br>Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,<br> Though we prayed you,<br> Paid you, brayed you<br>in a mortar—for you could not, Sweet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, we leave the sweet face fondly there:<br> Be its beauty<br> Its sole duty!<br>Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And while the face lies quiet there,<br> Who shall wonder<br> That I ponder<br>A conclusion? I will try it there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As,—why must one, for the love foregone,<br> Scout mere liking?<br> Thunder-striking<br>Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why, with beauty, needs there money be,<br> Love with liking?<br> Crush the fly-king<br>In his gauze, because no honey-bee?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">May not liking be so simple-sweet,<br> If love grew there<br> 'Twould undo there<br>All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is the creature too imperfect,<br> Would you mend it<br> And so end it?<br>Since not all addition perfects aye!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or is it of its kind, perhaps,<br> Just perfection—<br> Whence, rejection<br>Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall we burn up, tread that face at once<br> Into tinder,<br> And so hinder<br>Sparks from kindling all the place at once?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or else kiss away one's soul on her?<br> Your love-fancies!<br> —A sick man sees<br>Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—<br> Plucks a mould-flower<br> For his gold flower,<br>Uses fine things that efface the rose:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,<br> Precious metals<br> Ape the petals,—<br>Last, some old king locks it up, morose!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then how grace a rose? I know a way!<br> Leave it, rather.<br> Must you gather?<br>Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a> from <i>Men and Women</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116301" data-title="A Pretty Woman de Robert Browning" data-description="I/That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,/ And the blue eye/ Dear and dewy,/And that infantine fresh air of hers!/II/To think men cannot take you, Sweet,/ And enfold you,/ Ay, and hold you,/And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!/III/You like us f..."></div>
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