Thrown into despair¹

    By those great honey-coloured

    Ramparts at your ear，

    Love you for yourself alone

    And not your yellow hair.‘

    ‘But I can get a hair-dye

    And set such colour there，

    Brown， or black， or carrot，

    That young men in despair

    May love me for myself alone

    And not my yellow hair.‘

    ‘I heard an old religious² man

    But yesternight declare

    That he had found a text to prove

    That only God， my dear，

    Could love you for yourself alone

    And not your yellow hair.‘