The Lock Of Hair

By James Nack

She loved me well, whose precious head
This cherished ringlet bore;
Yet there will come a time I dread,
When she will love no more:
A thousand chances will occur
Her kindness to estrange;
This little lock is all of her
That time will never change!
And when the lip that once I prest
No smile to me will give,
This ringlet in my lonely breast
Shall bid some comfort live;
And when some happier heart shall bless
The love I must resign,
How will I prize this little tress,
Unaltered still and mine!
I have but little joy on earth
Or hope of joy above,
Save one that every joy is worth --
The Paradise of love:
Why must I know it will not last,
That fate will only spare,
Of all the love and rapture past,
One little lock of hair!