 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
570
A TRESS OF HAIR
This tress of hair my sweetheart sent to me,
And so I bent above it tenderly
And kissed the dainty bow
That bound the wisp of sunshine, thrilled forsooth,
Because her lips had nestled there—in truth,
She told me so.
And so I bent above it tenderly
And kissed the dainty bow
That bound the wisp of sunshine, thrilled forsooth,
Because her lips had nestled there—in truth,
She told me so.
And I remember, reading that, the flush
That fevered all my face, and the heart's hush
And hurry in my ears;
And how the letter trembled and grew blurred
Until my eyes could read no other word—
For happy tears.
That fevered all my face, and the heart's hush
And hurry in my ears;
And how the letter trembled and grew blurred
Until my eyes could read no other word—
For happy tears.
This tress of hair! Why, I did hug and hold
It here against my heart, and call it gold
With Heaven's own luster lit;
And I did stroke and smooth its gleaming strands,
And pet and fondle it with foolish hands,
And talk to it!
It here against my heart, and call it gold
With Heaven's own luster lit;
And I did stroke and smooth its gleaming strands,
And pet and fondle it with foolish hands,
And talk to it!
571
And now I pray God's blessing may alight
Upon the orange flowers she wears to-night.
Her features—keep them fair,
Dear Lord, but let her lips not quite forget
The love they kindled once is gilding yet
This tress of hair.
Upon the orange flowers she wears to-night.
Her features—keep them fair,
Dear Lord, but let her lips not quite forget
The love they kindled once is gilding yet
This tress of hair.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |