  I’D send a troop of kisses to entangle And lose themselves in labyrinths of hair,— Thy deep dark night of hair with stars to spangle, And each, a firefly’s tiny lamp, to dangle Amid the tresses of that forest fair. A perfume seems to blossom into air; The ecstasy that hangs about the tresses, Their blush, their overflow, their breath, their bloom; A wind that gently lifts them and caresses, And wings itself and floats about the room; The beauty that the flame of youth expresses, A tender fire, too tender to consume, Which, seizing all my soul, pervades, possesses, And mingleth in a subtly sweet perfume. |
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