The Resolve

Tell me not of a face that's fair, 
 Nor lip and cheek that's red, 
Nor of the tresses of her hair, 
 Nor curls in order laid; 
Nor of a rare seraphic voice, 
 That like an angel sings; 
Though if I were to take my choice, 
 I would have all these things. 
But if thou wilt have me love 
 And it must be a she, 
The only argument can move 
Is, that she will love me. 

The glories of your ladies be 
 But metaphors of things; 
And but resemble what we see 
 Each common object brings. 
Roses out-red their lips and cheeks, 
 Lilies their whiteness stain; 
What fool is he that shadows seeks 
 And may the substance gain? 
Then if thou'lt have me love a lass, 
 Let it be one that's kind, 
Else I'm a servant to the glass, 
 That's with Canary lined. 
(Poem by Alexander Brome)

Photo's title: Umbra
Photographer: Halina Garycka
Model: Sophie Merry 
Make up artist: Emilia Kuczma-PorebskaPhoto via: http://www.vogue.it/en/photovogue/Portfolio/039d5108-284a-480b-8381-5859d2b26954/Image