Song Analysis

I.



Nay but you, who do not love her,

Is she not pure gold, my mistress?

Holds earth aught---speak truth---above her?

Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,

And this last fairest tress of all,

So fair, see, ere I let it fall?



II.



Because, you spend your lives in praising;

To praise, you search the wide world over:

Then why not witness, calmly gazing,

If earth holds aught---speak truth---above her?

Above this tress, and this, I touch

But cannot praise, I love so much!

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