by Elinor Wylie (1885 - 1928)

Ophelia
Language: English 
My locks are shorn for sorrow
    Of love which may not be; 
Tomorrow and tomorrow
    Are plotting cruelty.

The winter wind tangles
    These ringlets half-grown, 
The sun sprays with spangles
    And rays like his own.

Oh, quieter and colder
    Is the stream; he will wait; 
When my curls touch my shoulder
    He will comb them straight.

First published in Bookman 54, January 1922, p. 475

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2008-08-31
Line count: 12
Word count: 56