His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
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His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.

It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette,
It was finer than silk of the floss, my pet;
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It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette,
It was finer than silk of the floss, my pet;
'Twas a beautiful mist falling down to your wrist,
'Twas a thing to be braided, and jewelled, and kissed--
'Twas the loveliest hair in the world, my pet.

Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.

Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
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And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
And she combs her golden hair.

But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

For whom do you bind your hair, plain in your neatness?
[Lat., Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex read more

For whom do you bind your hair, plain in your neatness?
[Lat., Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex munditiis?]

The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about read more

The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about her eyes,--
A mystery of mysteries.
So he must often pause, and stoop,
An all the wanton ringlets loop
Behind her dainty ear--emprise
Of slow event and many sighs.

We grow gray in our spirit long before we grow gray in our hair.

We grow gray in our spirit long before we grow gray in our hair.

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their read more

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their bosoms?