  There's nothing dark about her but her hair! Her liquid eyes, as blue as Grecian seas, Affect me, like a moonlit southern breeze, From off the fields of sweet magnolias rare; Her sympathetic soul is pure and fair And spotless as the petals of a rose: Her gown is like a drift of northern snows— There's nothing dark about her but her hair! But oh, her hair, ye priests, ye gods, her hair! Those silken strands of raveled midnight wove Into a Cupid's mesh, a net of love! Ah, I confess that I'm entangled there! But Susan's life as spotless as a dove,— There's nothing dark about her but her hair. |
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