WHEN your soft welcomings were said, This curl was waving on your head, And when we walked where breakers dinned It sported in the sun and wind, And when I had won your words of grace It brushed and clung about my face. Then, to abate the misery Of absentness, you gave it me. Where are its fellows now? Ah, they For brightest brown have donned a gray, And gone into a caverned ark, Ever unopened, always dark! Yet this one curl, untouched of time, Beams with live brown as in its prime, So that it seems I even could now Restore it to the living brow By bearing down the western road Till I had reached your old abode. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DANTE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ENOCH ARDEN by ALFRED TENNYSON AFTER LONG SILENCE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON SENESIS' MUMMY by LEONIE ADAMS GRAY MOOD by MARJORIE AKERMAN B. SONNET: 14 by RICHARD BARNFIELD GRIEF WAS SENT THEE FOR THY GOOD by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY |