When some tiara bright
About your head is bound
And like a goddess crowned
Your beauty dazzles sight,
My soul with rapture swift does thrill
And knows itself your captive still.

When loose your tresses lie
And o'er them softly drawn
A neckerchief of lawn
Protects them from men's eyes,
While all in vain my gaze I turn,
My thoughts with longing madly burn.

But when those locks revealed
Send down their stream of gold
And in my hand I hold
Their splendour unconcealed,
No more I feel my heart my own,
A fugitive from reason's throne.

Methinks that fairies three
Adorn your head with grace,
And in your smiling face
A triple charm I see,
Each way alike to me is fair
And still I find fresh beauty there.