Lyrics of the heart With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel |
 |
THE GREY HAIR. |
 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
195
THE GREY HAIR.
Come, let me pluck that silver hair
Which 'mid thy clustering curls I see;
The withering type of Time or Care
Hath nothing, sure, to do with thee.
Which 'mid thy clustering curls I see;
The withering type of Time or Care
Hath nothing, sure, to do with thee.
196
Years have not yet impaired the grace
That charmed me once, that chains me now;
And Envy's self, love, cannot trace
One wrinkle on thy placid brow.
That charmed me once, that chains me now;
And Envy's self, love, cannot trace
One wrinkle on thy placid brow.
Thy features have not lost the bloom
That brightened them when first we met:
No; rays of softest light illume
Their unambitious beauty yet.
That brightened them when first we met:
No; rays of softest light illume
Their unambitious beauty yet.
And if the passing clouds of Care
Have cast their shadows o'er thy face,
They have but left, triumphant, there
A holier charm—more witching grace.
Have cast their shadows o'er thy face,
They have but left, triumphant, there
A holier charm—more witching grace.
And if thy voice hath sunk a tone,
And sounds more sadly than of yore,
It hath a sweetness, all its own,
Methinks I never marked before.
And sounds more sadly than of yore,
It hath a sweetness, all its own,
Methinks I never marked before.
Thus, young, and fair, and happy too,—
If bliss indeed may here be won,—
In spite of all that Care can do,
In spite of all that Time hath done;
If bliss indeed may here be won,—
In spite of all that Care can do,
In spite of all that Time hath done;
197
Is yon white hair a boon of love,
To thee in mildest mercy given;
A sign, a token from above,
To lead thy thoughts from earth to heaven?
To thee in mildest mercy given;
A sign, a token from above,
To lead thy thoughts from earth to heaven?
To speak to thee of life's decay;
Of beauty, hastening to the tomb;
Of hopes, that cannot fade away;
Of joys, that never lose their bloom?
Of beauty, hastening to the tomb;
Of hopes, that cannot fade away;
Of joys, that never lose their bloom?
Or springs the thread of timeless snow
With those dark, glossy locks entwined,
'Mid Youth's and Beauty's morning glow,
To emblem thy maturer mind?
With those dark, glossy locks entwined,
'Mid Youth's and Beauty's morning glow,
To emblem thy maturer mind?
It does, it does:—then let it stay;
Even Wisdom's self were welcome now:
Who'd wish her soberer tints away,
When thus they beam from Beauty's brow!
Even Wisdom's self were welcome now:
Who'd wish her soberer tints away,
When thus they beam from Beauty's brow!
| Lyrics of the heart | |