THERE'S NOTHING DARK ABOUT HER BUT HER HAIR

There's nothing dark about her but her hair!

Her liquid eyes, as blue as Grecian seas,

Affect me, like a moonlit southern breeze,

From off the fields of sweet magnolias rare;

Her sympathetic soul is pure and fair

And spotless as the petals of a rose:

Her gown is like a drift of northern snows —

There's nothing dark about her but her hair!

But oh, her hair, ye priests, ye gods, her hair!

Those silken strands of raveled midnight wove

Into a Cupid's mesh, a net of love!

Ah, I confess that I'm entangled there!

But Susan's life as spotless as a dove,—

There's nothing dark about her but her hair.