Opals (Custance)/Glamour of Gold
Glamour of Gold
The white hands of my lady's maidMove deftly through the shining hair!How my heart falters half afraidLest they should hurt a thing so fairAs my sweet lady's head!And how I wish that I stood thereTwisting the strands instead!
Fortunate fingers those, that holdThe handles of the steels that fretAnd dent each heavy tress of gold . . .Till all the golden mass is setWith waves bewildering,Where fire and dusk together metRival day's sunsetting!
Or so at least it seems to meWhile gazing on my lady's face!And when with leaping heart I seeHer soft shy breathing 'neath the laceThat falls even to her feet . . .The curves of her slim body trace—See her supremely sweet—
Ah! then love swoons too satisfiedToo passionate for words of praiseWith but one prayer, to abideSafely at her sweet side always!Even as that maiden thereThat staid and silent still delaysWinding the long gold hair! . . .