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 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
157
THE LOCK OF HAIR.
Yes, it is mine—that ringlet token,
That raven lock of glossy shine,
What transport has the pledge awoken,
In this enraptured heart of mine;
And next my heart the gift I'll wear,
That heart with pure affection swelling,
And thus a lock of angel's hair,
Will then be near an angel's dwelling.
That raven lock of glossy shine,
What transport has the pledge awoken,
In this enraptured heart of mine;
And next my heart the gift I'll wear,
That heart with pure affection swelling,
And thus a lock of angel's hair,
Will then be near an angel's dwelling.
Oh tell me not that hopes delusive,
Or joys unreal my fancy mock,
When doubts require a proof conclusive,
I'll look upon this raven lock.
Or if it all illusion be,
My heart with joy is so elated,
I'd hug it still in ecstacy,
Nor wish the error dissipated.
Or joys unreal my fancy mock,
When doubts require a proof conclusive,
I'll look upon this raven lock.
Or if it all illusion be,
My heart with joy is so elated,
I'd hug it still in ecstacy,
Nor wish the error dissipated.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |