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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Memoirs of My Dead Life"

But she is
not really angry with him. How can she be? Was it not he who wrote
that her hair was enchanted? And what concern is it of hers that the
phrase was borrowed from another poet? Her concern is that he should
think her hair enchanted, and her hands go up to it. The young man
prays to unloose it, to let it fall about her shoulders. He must be
paid for his poem, and the only payment he will accept is to see her
hair unwreathed.
"But I cannot undo my hair on the common. Is there no other payment?"
and she leans a little forward, her eyes fixed upon him. The dreamer
can see her eyes, clear young eyes, but he cannot remember her mouth,
how full the lips were or how thin; ah, but he remembers kissing her!
On such a day a young man kisses his young woman, and it may be
doubted if the young woman would ever go out with him again if he
refrained, the circumstances being as I describe. But the lovers of
Vincennes have to be careful. The lady with the enchanted hair has
just spied a middle-aged gentleman with his two sons sitting on a
bench at a little distance.
"Do be quiet, I beg of you. I assure you, he saw us."
"If he did it would matter little; he would remember his young days,
before his children were born.


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