My last Duchess

• That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,

  Looking as if she were alive. I call

  That a piece of wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands

  Worked busily a day, and there she stands
• Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said

  “Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read

  Strangers like you that pictured countenance,

  The depth and passion of its earnest glance
• But to myself they turned (since none puts by

  The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

  And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

  How such a glance came there; so, not the first

  Are you to turn and ask thus.
• -Sir, ‘twas not”

  Her husband’s presence only, called that spot

  Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek;
• -perhaps

  Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps

  Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint

  Must never hope to reproduce the faint

  Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff

  Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

  For calling up that spot of joy. She had
• A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,

  Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er

  She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

  Sir, ‘twas all one! My favour at her breast,

  The dropping of the daylight in the West,
• The bough of cherries some officious fool

  Broke in the orchard for her, the while mule

  She rode with round the terrace - all and each

  Would draw from her alike the approving speech,

  Or blush, at least. -”
• She thanked men - good! but thanked

  Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked

  My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name

  With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame

  This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
• In speech - which I have not - to make your will

  Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this

  Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

  Or there exceed the mark” - and if she let

  Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set

  Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse - 

  E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose

  Never to stoop. -”
• Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,

  When’er I passed her; but who passed without

  Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;

  Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands

  As if alive. 
• Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet

  The company below, then. I repeat,

  The Count your master’s known munificence

  Is ample warrant that no just pretense

  Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
• Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed

  At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go 

  Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,

  Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,

  Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!