If underneath the water You comb your golden hair With a golden comb, my daughter, Oh, would that I were there. If underneath the wave You fill a slimy grave, Would that I, who could not save, Might share. FORSS. If my love Hero queens it In summer Fairyland, What would I be But the ring on her hand? Her cheek when she leans it Would lean on me: -- Or sweet, bitter-sweet, The flower that she wore When we parted, to meet On the hither shore Anymore? nevermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BAD CHILD'S BOOK OF BEASTS: INTRODUCTION by HILAIRE BELLOC ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SOCIOLOGY OF TOYOTAS AND JADE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by HAYDEN CARRUTH A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER |