TO AMARANTHA, THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER
HAIR
by: Richard Lovelace (1618-1658)
- MARANTHA
sweet and fair,
- Ah, braid no more that shining hair!
- As my curious hand or eye
- Hovering round thee, let it fly!
-
- Let it fly as unconfined
- As its calm ravisher the wind,
- Who hath left his darling, th' East,
- To wanton o'er that spicy nest.
-
- Every tress must be confest,
- But neatly tangled at the best;
- Like a clew of golden thread
- Most excellently ravellèd.
-
- Do not then wind up that light
- In ribbands, and o'ercloud in night,
- Like the Sun in 's early ray;
- But shake your head, and scatter day!
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POEMS BY RICHARD LOVELACE |
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