THE soul's Rialto hath its merchandise; I barter curl for curl upon that mart, And from my poet's forehead to my heart Receive this lock which outweighs argosies, -- As purply black, as erst to Pindar's eyes The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, ... The bay-crown's shade, Beloved, I surmise Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black! Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath, I tie the shadows safe from gliding back, And lay the gift where nothing hindereth; Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack No natural heat till mine grows cold in death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL by WILLIAM BLAKE SCHOOLBOYS IN WINTER by JOHN CLARE AN INVOCATION; SONG, FR. REMORSE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE BABIE by JEREMIAH EAMES RANKIN THE FIGHT OF THE ARMSTRONG PRIVATEER by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE THE ENTHUSIAST, OR, THE LOVER OF NATURE by JOSEPH WARTON TO TWO BEREAVED by THOMAS ASHE |