HER HAIR

The beauty of her hair bewilders me —

Pouring adown the brow, its cloven tide

Swirling about the ears on either side

And storming around the neck tumultuously:

Or like the lights of old antiquity

Through mullioned windows, in cathedrals wide,

Spilled moltenly 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 coilings come unrolled

At any lightest kiss; or by the wind

Whipped out in flossy ravelings of gold.