Her Hair

The beauty of her hair bewilders me-

Pouring down the brow, its cloven tide

Swirling about the ears on either side

And storming round the neck tumultuously:

Or like the lights of old antiquity

Through mullioned windows, in cathedrals wide

molten o'er figures deified

In chastest marble, nude of drapery.

And so I love it-. Either unconfined;

Or plaited in close braidings manifold;

Or smoothly drawn; or indolently twined

In careless knots whose coiling come unrolled

At any lightest kiss; or by the wind

Whipped out in flossy ravelling of gold.