Select Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3727, 4 December 1880, Page 1

Select Poetry.

THE GOLDEN RINGLET.

Here is a little golden tress. Of soft, unbreided hair; The all that's left of loveliness That onoe was thought to lair; And yet though time hath dimmed it* sheen Though all beiide bath fled, I hold it here a link between ' My spirit and the dead.

Yet from this shining ringlet still A mournful memory springs, That melts my heart and fends a thrill Through all its trembling sfriuge. I think of her, the lored, the wept. Upon whose forehead fair For near two yean, like sunshine slept, This little look of hair.

Ohjjrunoy tress, the joyow brew Where thoa did't^Hghtly. ware, : With all thy sister tresses, now Lies cold within the grate. That cheek is of its bloom bereft, That eye no longer gay; Of all her beauties thou art left A solitary ray.

Her memory still within my mind Retains its sweetest power,, It is the perfume left behind To whisper of the flower. Each blossom (hat in moments gone Bound up this tunny, curl, Recalls the form, the look, the tone, Of that loved, fragile girl.

Her step was like an April rain O'er beds of violets flung t Her voice the prelude to a strain, Before the song is snag. Her life was like a half •blown flower, doled ere the shades of eren; Her death the dawn, the blushing hour That opes the gates of heaven. A single shining tresl ot hair \. ; To bid such memories start; ' But tears are en <ts lustre 1, there, I lay it'to, my heart. Oh, when in death's cold arms I sink. Who then, with gentle care, Will keep for me one treasured link— , One ringlet of my hair f .