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Richard Lovelace

To Amarantha, that she would dishevel her Hair

AMARANTHA sweet and fair,
Ah, braid no more that shining hair!
As my curious hand or eye
Hovering round thee, let it fly!

Let it fly as unconfined
As its calm ravisher the wind,
Who hath left his darling, th' East,
To wanton o'er that spicy nest.

Every tress must be confest,
But neatly tangled at the best;
Like a clew of golden thread
Most excellently ravelled.

Do not then wind up that light
In ribbands, and o'ercloud in night,
Like the Sun in 's early ray;
But shake your head, and scatter day!

 
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About the poet
Richard Lovelace
 
By the same poet
To Lucasta, going to the Wars
To Lucasta, going beyond the Seas
Gratiana Dancing
The Grasshopper
To Althea, from Prison
 
Related books
Richard Lovelace at amazon.com


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