THE Wisest of the wise Listen to pretty lies, And love to hear them told; Doubt not that Solomon Listened to many a one,— Some in his youth, and more when he grew old. I never sat among The choir of Wisdom’s song, But pretty lies loved I As much as any king,— When youth was on the wing, And (must it then be told?) when youth had quite gone by. Alas! and I have not The pleasant hour forgot, When one pert lady said,— “O Landor! I am quite Bewildered with affright; I see (sit quiet now!) a white hair on your head!” Another, more benign, Drew out that hair of mine, And in her own dark hair Pretended she had found That one, and twirled it round.— Fair as she was, she never was so fair.
The One White Hair
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THE Wisest of the wise Listen to pretty lies, And love to hear them told; Doubt not that Solomon Listened to many a one,— Some in his youth, and more when he grew old. I never sat among The choir of Wisdom’s song, But pretty... |