Love

You have witches in your eyes, dear girl;
Witches in your eyes, and silver in your hair–
Moonlight freckles in your hair;
Now rub the witches from your eyes, dear girl;
Leave the silver in your hair.

Dawn creeps quiet to your eyes, dear girl;
The sun sneaks ‘cross your golden hair–
Flowing, flaxen, silky hair;
Rub your ready morning eyes, dear girl,
Run your new hands through your hair.

You are a Mars beneath my eyes, dear girl,
Mars beneath my eyes, and red dawn in my hair–
Sailors drowning in my hair;
So calm the storm beneath my eyes, dear girl,
And wash the sea-foam out my hair.