XXXIX. ON A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR.
Reading edition
XXXIX. ON A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR.
Leigh Hunt.—1784-1859.
It lies before me there, and my own breath Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside The living head I stood in honor'd pride, Talking of lovely things that conquer death. Perhaps he press'd it once, or underneath Ran his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-ey'd, And saw, in fancy, Adam and his bride With their rich locks, or his own Delphic wreath. There seems a love in hair, though it be dead. It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread Of our frail plant,—a blossom from the tree Surviving the proud trunk;—as though it said Patience and gentleness is power; in me Behold affectionate eternity.