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致阿玛莲莎_世界诗歌_好文学网

2020-03-14 03:16

That She Would Dishevel Her Hair

Amarantba, sweet and fair,

Ah, braid no more that shining hair:

As my curious hand or eye

Hovering round thee, let it 11y!

Let it fly as unconfined

As its calm ravisher the wind?

Who hath left his darling East

To wanton o’er that spicy nest.

Every tress must be contest,

But neatly tangled at the best;

Like a clue of golden thread

Most excellently revelled.

Do not, then,wind up that light

In ribands, and o’ercloud in night,

Like the Sun in’s early ray;

But shake your head, and scatter day!

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