| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| A Face |
| | | Robert Browning (1812–89) |
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| IF one could have that little head of hers! | |
| Painted upon a background of pale gold, | |
| Such as the Tuscan’s early art prefers! | |
| No shade encroaching on the matchless mould | |
| Of those two lips, which should be opening soft | 5 |
| In the pure profile; not as when she laughs, | |
| For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft | |
| Yon hyacinth, she loves so, lean’d its staff’s | |
| Burthen of honey-color’d buds to kiss | |
| And capture ’twixt the lips apart for this. | 10 |
| Then her lithe neck, three fingers might surround, | |
| How it should waver, on the pale gold ground, | |
| Up to the fruit-shap’d, perfect chin it lifts! | |
| I know, Correggio loves to mass, in rifts | |
| Of heaven, his angel faces, orb on orb | 15 |
| Breaking its outline, burning shades absorb; | |
| But these are only mass’d there, I should think, | |
| Waiting to see some wonder momently | |
| Grow out, stand full, fade slow against the sky | |
| (That ’s the pale ground you ’d see this sweet face by), | 20 |
| All heaven, meanwhile, condens’d into one eye | |
| Which fears to lose the wonder, should it wink. | |
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