Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE POET RELATES HOW HE STOLE A LOCK OF DELIA'S HAIR, by ROBERT SOUTHEY



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE POET RELATES HOW HE STOLE A LOCK OF DELIA'S HAIR, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh! Be the day accurst that gave me birth!
Last Line: "you stupid puppy—you have spoil'd my wig!"
Variant Title(s): Love Elegies Of Abel Shufflebottom: 4
Subject(s): Anger; Crime & Criminals; Despair; Hair; Man-woman Relationships; Obsessions; Wigs; Male-female Relations; Toupees; Hairpieces


OH! be the day accurst that gave me birth!
Ye seas, to swallow me in kindness rise!
Fall on me, mountains! and thou, merciful earth,
Open and hide me from my Delia's eyes!

Let universal chaos now return,
Now let the central fires their prison burst,
And earth and heaven, and air and ocean, burn—
For Delia frowns—she frowns, and I am curst!

Oh! I could dare the fury of the fight,
Where hostile millions sought my single life;
Would storm volcano batteries with delight,
And grapple with grim death in glorious strife.

Oh! I could brave the bolts of angry Jove,
When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies;
What is his wrath to that of her I love?
What is his lightning to my Delia's eyes?

Go, fatal lock! I cast thee to the wind;
Ye serpent curls, ye poison-tendrils go—
Would I could tear thy memory from my mind,
Accursed lock—thou cause of all my woe!

Seize the curst curls, ye furies, as they fly!
Dæmons of darkness, guard the infernal roll,
That thence your cruel vengeance when I die,
May knit the knots of torture for my soul.

Last night—Oh hear me Heaven, and grant my prayer!
The book of fate before thy suppliant lay,
And let me from its ample records tear
Only the single page of yesterday!

Or let me meet old Time upon his flight,
And I will stop him on his restless way;
Omnipotent in love's resistless might,
I'll force him back the road of yesterday.

Last night, as o'er the page of love's despair,
My Delia bent deliciously to grieve;
I stood a treacherous loiterer by her chair,
And drew the fatal scissars from my sleeve.

And would that at that instant o'er my thread
The shears of Atropos had open'd then;
And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,
Had cut me sudden from the sons of men!

She heard the scissars that fair lock divide,
And whilst my heart with transport panted big,
She cast a fury frown on me, and cried,
"You stupid puppy—you have spoil'd my wig!"





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