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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Lady, unwreath thy hair, That is so long and fair, And weave a web of gold Of thy enchanted hair, Till all be in its hold. Lady, unwreath thy hair, That is so long and fair." "Do let me see your poem.... It is charming. But what do you mean by 'enchanted hair'? Is it that my hair has enchanted you? 'And weave a web of gold.... 'Unwreath' do you mean unloose my hair?"
And when she asks him if he has thought of her during the night, he has to answer that her violet-scented handkerchief awoke him many times, that the wakings were delicious. What time did he go to bed? Very late; he had sat up writing a poem to her telling of the beauty of her blond hair. "Lady, unwreath thy hair, That is so long and fair.
May flowers are not more sweet Than the shower of loosened hair That will fall around my feet. Lady, unwreath thy hair, That is so long and fair. "The golden curls they paint, Round the forehead of a saint, Ne'er glittered half so bright As thy enchanted hair, Full of shadow, full of light. Lady, unwreath thy hair, That is so long and fair.
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