Beauty’S Hair

A gleam of light across the night, I know that you are there; The heavens show the lovely glow Of your transcendent hair, Your luminous, miraculous, and morning-coloured hair.

I’ll take my silver javelin And point it with a star, For I have vowed to climb a cloud And reach to where you are. My javelin’s barb shall pierce your hair And pin it to the sky, And I will run to the island sun Where captive you will lie, And then I shall dare to touch your hair, To steal a tress of your magic hair, And bring to the world a tress of hair And win the world thereby.

Or shall I put on a green-sea cloak With sunset laces trimmed, And shine so gay that the dawn will say That her radiance is dimmed? There never was a lover could shine more fair Than I in my cloak will shine; And all for the sake of your merry hair, Your whimsical, perilous, golden hair, Your lovely, terrible, golden hair, More sweet than love or wine.

A twisted bit of silver Fell down and bruised my face. What was it broke my broidered cloak And tore the sunset lace? I must be clad in sorrow Because you are so gay, And close my eyes if I would see A whiter light than day. So lofty is your golden hair, I cannot climb to touch your hair, I must kneel down to find your hair Upon the trampled way.