Silently she's combing, Combing her long hair Silently and graciously, With many a pretty air. The sun is in the willow leaves And on the dappled grass, And still she's combing her long hair Before the looking-glass. I pray you, cease to comb out, Comb out your long hair, For I have heard of witchery Under a pretty air, That makes as one thing to the lover Staying and going hence, All fair, with many a pretty air And many a negligence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO KNOW IN REVERIE THE ONLY PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE ABSOLUTE by HAYDEN CARRUTH OFFERING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE NEW APOCRYPHA: THE FIG TREE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS UNDER A PATCHED SAIL by MARIANNE MOORE RAHEL TO VARNHAGEN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE WALKING MAN OF RODIN by CARL SANDBURG |