THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR

BY GUSTAV PFIZER

A youth, light-hearted and content, I wander through the world Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent And straight again is furled.

Yet oft I dream, that once a wife Close in my heart was locked, And in the sweet repose of life A blessed child I rocked.

I wake! Away that dream,--away! Too long did it remain! So long, that both by night and day It ever comes again.

The end lies ever in my thought; To a grave so cold and deep The mother beautiful was brought; Then dropt the child asleep.

But now the dream is wholly o'er, I bathe mine eyes and see; And wander through the world once more, A youth so light and free.

Two locks--and they are wondrous fair-- Left me that vision mild; The brown is from the mother's hair, The blond is from the child.

And when I see that lock of gold, Pale grows the evening-red; And when the dark lock I behold, I wish that I were dead.