We might call this the ideal of a peasant girl whose poverty appeals to the sympathy of all who behold her.  The name of the poem is suggested indeed by the Bible story of Ruth the gleaner, but the story in the poem is only that of a rich farmer who marries a very poor girl, because of her beauty and her goodness.  It is just a charming picture—­a picture of the dark beauty which is so much admired in Northern countries, where it is less common than in Southern Europe.  There are beautiful brown-skinned types; and the flush of youth on the cheeks of such a brown girl has been compared to the red upon a ripe peach or a russet apple—­a hard kind of apple, very sweet and juicy, which is brown instead of yellow, or reddish brown.  But the poet makes the comparison with poppy flowers and wheat.  That, of course, means golden yellow and red; in English wheat fields red poppy flowers grow in abundance.  The expression “tressy forehead” in the second line of the fourth stanza means a forehead half covered with falling, loose hair.

The foregoing pretty picture may be offset by charming poem of Browning’s describing a lover’s pride in his illusion.  It is simply entitled “Song,” and to appreciate it you must try to understand the mood of a young man who believes that he has actually realized his ideal, and that the woman that he loves is the most beautiful person in the whole world.  The fact that this is simply imagination on his part does not make the poem less beautiful—­on the contrary, the false imagining is just what makes it beautiful, the youthful emotion of a moment being so humanly and frankly described.  Such a youth must imagine that every one else sees and thinks about the girl just as he does, and he expects them to confess it.

  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!

You see the picture, I think,—­probably some artist’s studio for a background.  She sits or stands there with her long hair loosely flowing down to her feet like a river of gold; and her lover, lifting up some of the long tresses in his hand, asks his friend, who stands by, to notice how beautiful such hair is.  Perhaps the girl was having her picture painted.  One would think so from the question, “Since your business is to look for beautiful things, why can you not honestly acknowledge that this woman is the most beautiful thing in the whole world?” Or we might imagine the questioned person to be a critic by profession as well as an artist.  Like the preceding poem