Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — The Two Locks of Hair

A youth, light-hearted and content,        &nbsp I wander through the world Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent        &nbsp And straight again is furled. Yet oft I dream, that once a wife        &nbsp Close in my heart was locked, And in the sweet repose of life        &nbsp A blessed child I rocked. I wake! Away that dream,—away!        &nbsp Too long did it remain! So long, that both by night and day        &nbsp It ever comes again. The end lies ever in my thought;        &nbsp To a grave so cold and deep The mother beautiful was brought;        &nbsp Then dropt the child asleep. But now the dream is wholly o'er,        &nbsp I bathe mine eyes and see; And wander through the world once more,        &nbsp A youth so light and free. Two locks—and they are wondrous fair—        &nbsp Left me that vision mild; The brown is from the mother's hair,        &nbsp The blond is from the child. And when I see that lock of gold,        &nbsp Pale grows the evening-red; And when the dark lock I behold,        &nbsp I wish that I were dead.