The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about read more

The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about her eyes,--
A mystery of mysteries.
So he must often pause, and stoop,
An all the wanton ringlets loop
Behind her dainty ear--emprise
Of slow event and many sighs.

But she is vanish'd to her shady home
Under the deep, inscrutable; and there
Weeps in a read more

But she is vanish'd to her shady home
Under the deep, inscrutable; and there
Weeps in a midnight made of her own hair.

His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
read more

His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.

One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.

One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less with baldness.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less with baldness.

Within the midnight of her hair,
Half-hidden in its deepest deeps.

Within the midnight of her hair,
Half-hidden in its deepest deeps.

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
read more

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
And she combs her golden hair.

And he said, My son shall not go down with you; for his brother
is dead, and he is read more

And he said, My son shall not go down with you; for his brother
is dead, and he is left alone: if mischief befall him by the way
in the which we go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with
sorrow to the grave.

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.