song ("nay but you, who do not love her") - arthur somervell lyrics
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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?
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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