The Poetical Works of Leigh Hunt/On a Lock of Milton's Hair

by James Henry Leigh Hunt

ON A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR.

It lies before me there, and my own breathStirs its thin outer threads, as though besideThe living head I stood in honour'd pride,Talking of lovely things that conquer death. Perhaps he press'd it once, or underneathRan his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-eyed,And saw, in fancy, Adam and his brideWith their rich locks, or his own Delphic wreath.

There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.It is the gentlest, yet the strongest threadOf our frail plant,—a blossom from the treeSurviving the proud trunk;—as though it saidPatience and Gentleness is Power. In meBehold affectionate eternity.

 

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