THE comb between whose ivory teeth she strains The straightening curls of gold so beamy bright, Not spotless merely from the touch remains, But issues forth more pure, more milky white. The rose-pomatum that the friseur spreads Sometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair, No added perfume on her tresses sheds, But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair. Happy the friseur who in Delia's hair With licensed fingers uncontroll'd may rove, And happy in his death the dancing bear Who died to make pomatum for my love. Oh could I hope that e'er my favour'd lays Might curl those lovely locks with conscious pride, Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan shepherd's praise I'd envy then, nor wish reward beside. Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine, The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart; From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile line Wherewith the urchin angled for my heart. Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threads That from the silk-worm, self-interr'd, proceed, Fine as the gleamy gossamer, that spreads Its filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead. Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elate My captive heart has handcuffed in a chain, Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate, That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main. The sylphs that round her radiant locks repair, In flowing lustre bathe their brightening wings And elfin minstrels with assiduous care The ringlets rob for faery fiddle-strings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ITALIAN MUSIC IN DAKOTA (THE SEVENTEENTH - THE FINEST REGIMENTAL BAND) by WALT WHITMAN THE LAND OF THE GIANTS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ODE TO A CHILD by MATHILDE BLIND CLEVEDON VERSES: 6. PER OMNIA DEUS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |