The Two Locks of Hair

By Gustav Pfizer

A youth, light-hearted and content, / I wander through the world / Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent / And straight again is furled.

Yet oft I dream, that once a wife / Close in my heart was locked, / And in the sweet repose of life / A blessed child I rocked.

I wake! Away that dream, -- away! / Too long did it remain! / So long, that both by night and day / It ever comes again.

The end lies ever in my thought; / To a grave so cold and deep / The mother beautiful was brought; / Then dropt the child asleep.

But now the dream is wholly o'er, / I bathe mine eyes and see; / And wander through the world once more, / A youth so light and free.

Two locks -- and they are wondrous fair -- / Left me that vision mild; / The brown is from the mother's hair, / The blond is from the child.

And when I see that lock of gold, / Pale grows the evening-red; / And when the dark lock I behold, / I wish that I were dead.