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Lyric Poem · Love

My Last Duchess

by Robert Browning

1That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,

2Looking as if she were alive. I call

3That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands

4Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

5Will't please you sit and look at her? I said

6"Frà Pandolf" by design: for never read

7Strangers like you that pictured countenance,

8The depth and passion of its earnest glance,

9But to myself they turned (since none puts by

10The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

11And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

12How such a glance came there; so, not the first

13Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not

14Her husband's presence only, called that spot

15Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps

16Frà Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps

17Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint

18Must never hope to reproduce the faint

19Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such stuff

20Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

21For calling up that spot of joy. She had

22A heart — how shall I say? — too soon made glad,

23Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er

24She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

25Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast,

26The dropping of the daylight in the West,

27The bough of cherries some officious fool

28Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule

29She rode with round the terrace — all and each

30Would draw from her alike the approving speech,

31Or blush, at least. She thanked men, — good! but thanked

32Somehow — I know not how — as if she ranked

33My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name

34With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame

35This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

36In speech — (which I have not) — to make your will

37Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this

38Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

39Or there exceed the mark" — and if she let

40Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set

41Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,

42 — E'en then would be some stooping: and I choose

43Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,

44Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without

45Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;

46Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands

47As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet

48The company below, then. I repeat,

49The Count your master's known munificence

50Is ample warrant that no just pretence

51Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;

52Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed

53At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go

54Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,

55Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,

56Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

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Quick facts

Poem
My Last Duchess
Poet
Robert Browning
Length
56 lines
Form
Lyric Poem
Themes
Love, Death & Loss, Nature

Craft notes

How this poem works

Measured from the text on this page, not copied from a summary. Counts are approximate: syllables and rhymes come from the CMU Pronouncing Dictionary, which models General American English, so dialect, older pronunciation, and performance can all change what you hear.

Shape
56 lines · one 56-line stanza
Line length
Mostly 10-syllable lines (pentameter length).
The poem’s silhouette — approximate syllables per line, measured from the text above. Even bars mean a measured line; ragged bars mean the poem sets its own widths.

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Text, source & rights

A traceable edition

Full-text display is based on the committed source record and a United States term-expiry review.

Author record
Robert Browning1812–1889
Source record
PoetryDBMy Last Duchess by robert-browning, PoetryDB transcription
Display decision
Full text · United States · reviewed 2026-07-18
Publication record
Not recorded in the imported source
Text fingerprint
SHA-256 0d1b44c2bb9bbf23
Editorial handling
Whitespace and stanza breaks normalized for web display; no material wording change recorded.
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