One more try at parting! Not many
Locks circle my head, I regret;
But a few, the most hardy of any,
Are left on the crown of it yet.
’Tis a ticklish task to divide them,
In well-balanced head-central fringe;
These patches cost labour to hide them,
Give vanity many a twinge.
But come—every sproutling I treasure—
Thine aid O Macassar! I beg;