[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] >>


THE GARLAND
by Francis Hopkinson (1919)

The pride of ev'ry grove I chose
The violet sweet and lily fair,
The dappled pink and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Chloe's hair!

At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place
Upon her brow the various wreath,
The flow'rs less blooming than her face,
Their scent less fragrant than her hair!


Woman doing her hair(1995): Natasha


UNTITLED
by an unknown Afghan poet

Last night my kisses drowned in the softnes of black hair
And my kisses like bees went plundering the softness of black hair
Last night my hands were thrust in the mysteries of black hair,
And my kisses like bees went plundering the sweetness of pomegranates.
And among the scents of the harvest above my queen's neck the harvest of black hair
And my teeth played with the golden skin of her two ears.
Last night my kisses drowned in the softness of her black hair
And my kisses like bees went plundering the softnessof black hair.


[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] >>