Hair is, I say, the basis of all things.
It draws the eye, and also snares the mind.
It can be short and straight, or long in rings
Or any other way that thought can find.
But I myself confess I am partial
To that sweet way in which I find your hair.
O, long and straight, across your head 'twill fall
And when I touch it, I find your soul there.
I nuzzle it, I touch, and I caress
I wrap it 'round my finger, me 'round yours:
It is a sign of your sweet tenderness.
When I touch it, up my heart leaps and soars.
And then I find, I love not just your hair
But all of you, and all of you is fair.