Your hair is long and wonderful;
It is dark, with golden
Lights in the length of it.
Long, lovely, liquid, glorious
Is your hair, and lustrous,
Scented with summertime.
Beware when you are combing it,
In the nights and mornings,
Shaking its splendor out.
I bid you comb it carefully,
For my soul is caught there,
Wound in the web of it.
This poem is in the public domain.