Classic Poem

“See'st thou o'er my shoulders falling,
Snake-like ringlets waving free?
Have no fear, for they are twisted
To allure thee unto me.”

Thus she spake, the gentle dove,
Listen to thy plighted love:—
“Ah, how long I wait, until
Sweetheart cometh back (she said)
Laying his caressing hand
Underneath my burning head.”