28.10.2007, 14:57
THE TRAVELLER AND HIS WIFE'S RINGLET.
I HAVE a circlet of thy sunny hair,
A light from home, a blessing to mine eyes ;
Though grave and mournful thoughts will often rise,
As I behold it mutely glistening there,
So still, so passive ! like a treasure's key,
Unconscious of the dreams it doth compel,
Of gems and gold, high-piled in secret cell,
Too royal for a vulgar gaze to see !
If they were stolen, the key could never tell ;
If thou wert dead, what should thy ringlet say ?
It shows the same, betide thee ill or well,
Smiling in love, or shrouded in decay ;
It cannot darken for dead Isabel,
Nor blanch if thy young head grew white to-day.
I HAVE a circlet of thy sunny hair,
A light from home, a blessing to mine eyes ;
Though grave and mournful thoughts will often rise,
As I behold it mutely glistening there,
So still, so passive ! like a treasure's key,
Unconscious of the dreams it doth compel,
Of gems and gold, high-piled in secret cell,
Too royal for a vulgar gaze to see !
If they were stolen, the key could never tell ;
If thou wert dead, what should thy ringlet say ?
It shows the same, betide thee ill or well,
Smiling in love, or shrouded in decay ;
It cannot darken for dead Isabel,
Nor blanch if thy young head grew white to-day.