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The Ringlet

 'Your ringlets, your ringlets,
That look so golden-gay,
If you will give me one, but one,
To kiss it night and day,
The never chilling touch of Time
Will turn it silver-gray;
And then shall I know it is all true gold
To flame and sparkle and stream as of old.
Till all the comets in heaven are cold, And all her stars decay.
' 'Then take it, love, and put it by; This cannot change, nor yet can I.
' 'My ringlet, my ringlet, That art so golden-gay, Now never chilling touch of Time Can turn thee silver-gray; And a lad may wink, and a girl may hint, And a fool may say his say; For my doubts and fears were all amiss, And I swear henceforth by this and this, That a doubt will only come for a kiss, And a fear to be kiss'd away.
' 'Then kiss it, love, and put it by: If this can change, why so can I.
' O Ringlet, O Ringlet, I kiss'd you night and day, And Ringlet, O Ringlet, You still are golden-gay, But Ringlet, O Ringlet, You should be silver-gray: For what is this which now I'm told, I that took you for true gold, She that gave you 's bought and sold, Sold, sold.
O Ringlet, O Ringlet, She blush'd a rosy red, When Ringlet, O Ringlet She clipt you from her head, And Ringlet, O Ringlet, She gave you me, and said, 'Come, kiss it, love and put it by: If this can change, why so can I.
' O fie, you golden nothing, fie, You golden lie.
O Ringlet, O Ringlet, I count you much to blame, For Ringlet, O Ringlet, You put me much to shame, So Ringlet, O Ringlet, I doom you to the flame.
For what is this which now I learn, Has given all my faith a turn? Burn, you glossy heretic, burn, Burn, burn.

Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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