The locks that round her forehead hung,
And turned her eye, a glorious one,
Bright as a diamond in the sun,
On me, until beneath its rays
I felt as if my hair would blaze;
She liked all eyes but eyes of green;
She looked at me, what could she mean?
Ah! many lids Love lurks between,
Nor heeds the coloring of his screen;
And when his random arrows fly,