Oh! little lock of golden hue
In gently waving ringlet curl'd,
By the dear head on which you grew,
I would not lose you for a world.
Not though a thousand more adorn
The polished brow where once you shone,
Like rays which guild a cloudless sky
Beneath Columbia's fervid zone.
A Woman's Hair
George Gordon Lord Byron
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Poem topics: sky, world, dear, head, golden, beneath, gently, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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