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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.
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?
His hair stood upright like porcupine quills.
His hair stood upright like porcupine quills.
And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.
And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.
Prejudice is like a hair across your cheek. You can't see it, you can't find it with your fingers, but read more
Prejudice is like a hair across your cheek. You can't see it, you can't find it with your fingers, but you keep brushing at it because the feel of it is irritating.
The hair is the richest ornament of women.
The hair is the richest ornament of women.
Within the midnight of her hair,
Half-hidden in its deepest deeps.
Within the midnight of her hair,
Half-hidden in its deepest deeps.
She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.
She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.
