Glamour of Gold
The white hands of my lady's maid
Move deftly through the shining hair!
How my heart falters half afraid
Lest they should hurt a thing so fair
As my sweet lady's head!
And how I wish that I stood there
Twisting the strands instead!
Move deftly through the shining hair!
How my heart falters half afraid
Lest they should hurt a thing so fair
As my sweet lady's head!
And how I wish that I stood there
Twisting the strands instead!
Fortunate fingers those, that hold
The handles of the steels that fret
And dent each heavy tress of gold . . .
Till all the golden mass is set
With waves bewildering,
Where fire and dusk together met
Rival day's sunsetting!
The handles of the steels that fret
And dent each heavy tress of gold . . .
Till all the golden mass is set
With waves bewildering,
Where fire and dusk together met
Rival day's sunsetting!
Or so at least it seems to me
While gazing on my lady's face!
And when with leaping heart I see
Her soft shy breathing 'neath the lace
That falls even to her feet . . .
The curves of her slim body trace—
See her supremely sweet—
While gazing on my lady's face!
And when with leaping heart I see
Her soft shy breathing 'neath the lace
That falls even to her feet . . .
The curves of her slim body trace—
See her supremely sweet—
Ah! then love swoons too satisfied
Too passionate for words of praise
With but one prayer, to abide
Safely at her sweet side always!
Even as that maiden there
That staid and silent still delays
Winding the long gold hair! . . .
Too passionate for words of praise
With but one prayer, to abide
Safely at her sweet side always!
Even as that maiden there
That staid and silent still delays
Winding the long gold hair! . . .