The Poetry Corner

Poetics

By Robert Browning

So say the foolish! Say the foolish so, Love? Flower she is, my rose or else, My very swan is she Or perhaps, Yon maid-moon, blessing earth below, Love, That art thou! to them, belike: no such vain words from me. Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath, I chide it: Bend thy neck its best, swan, hers the whiter curve! Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it: What is she? Her human self, no lower word will serve.