Amarantha sweet and fair <br />Ah braid no more that shining hair! <br /> As my curious hand or eye <br />Hovering round thee let it fly. <br /> <br /> Let it fly as unconfin'd <br />As its calm ravisher, the wind, <br /> Who hath left his darling th'East, <br />To wanton o'er that spicy nest. <br /> <br /> Ev'ry tress must be confest <br />But neatly tangled at the best; <br /> Like a clue of golden thread, <br />Most excellently ravelled. <br /> <br /> Do not then wind up that light <br />In ribands, and o'er-cloud in night; <br /> Like the sun in's early ray, <br />But shake your head and scatter day. <br /> <br /> See 'tis broke! Within this grove <br />The bower, and the walks of love, <br /> Weary lie we down and rest, <br />And fan each other's panting breast. <br /> <br /> Here we'll strip and cool our fire <br />In cream below, in milk-baths higher: <br /> And when all wells are drawn dry, <br />I'll drink a tear out of thine eye, <br /> <br /> Which our very joys shall leave <br />That sorrows thus we can deceive; <br /> Or our very sorrows weep, <br />That joys so ripe, so little keep.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-to-amarantha-that-she-would-dishevel-her-ha/
