Lock Of Hair, To A Lock Of Hair, To A |
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Lock Of Hair, To ALock Of Hair, To A
Lock Of Hair, To A
Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright
As in that well - remember`d night
When first thy mystic braid was wove,
And first my Agnes whisper`d love.
Since then how often hast thou prest
The torrid zone of this wild breast,
Whose wrath and hate have sworn to dwell
With the first sin that peopled hell;
A breast whose blood`s a troubled ocean,
Each throb the earthquake`s wild commotion!
O if such clime thou canst endure
Yet keep thy hue unstain`d and pure,
What conquest o`er each erring thought
Of that fierce realm had Agnes wrought!
I had not wander`d far and wide
With such an angel for my guide;
Nor heaven nor earth could then reprove me
If she had lived and lived to love me.
Not then this world`s wild joys had been
To me one savage hunting scene,
My sole delight the headlong race
And frantic hurry of the chase;
To start, pursue, and bring to bay,
Rush in, drag down, and rend my prey,
Then - from the carcass turn away!
Mine ireful mood had sweetness tamed,
And soothed each wound which pride inflamed: -
Yes, God and man might now approve me
If thou hadst lived and lived to love me!
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