---

Felicia Dorothea Hemans - The Silver Locks
Work rating: Low

Tho` youth may boast the curls that flow,
In sunny waves of auburn glow;
As graceful on thy hoary head,
Has time the robe of honor spread,
And there, oh ! softly, softly shed,
            His wreath of snow!

As frost-work on the trees display`d,
When weeping Flora leaves the shade,
        E`en more than Flora, charms the sight;
E`en so thy locks, of purest white,
Survive, in age`s frost-work bright,
            Youth`s vernal rose decay`d!

To grace the nymph, whose tresses play
Light on the sportive breeze of May,
Let other bards the garland twine,
Where sweets of ev`ry hue combine;
Those locks rever`d, that silvery shine,
            Invite my lay!

Less white the summer-cloud sublime,
Less white the winter`s fringing rime;
Nor do Belinda`s lovelier seem,
"A poet`s blest, immortal theme",
Than thine, which wear the moonlight-beam,
            Of rev`rend time!

Long may the graceful honors smile,
Like moss on some declining pile;
Oh! much rever`d! may filial care,
Around thee, duteous, long repair,
Thy joys with tender bliss to share,
            Thy pains beguile!

Long, long, ye snowy ringlets, wave,
Long, long, your much-lov`d beauty save!
May bliss your latest ev`ning crown,
Disarm life`s winter of its frown,
And soft, ye hoary hairs, go down,
            In gladness to the grave!

And, as the parting beams of day,
On mountain-snows reflected play;
And tints of roseate lustre shed;
Thus, on the snow that crowns thy head,
May joy, with ev`ning planet, shed
            His mildest ray!
Source
The script ran 0.002 seconds.