Not in thy body is thy life at all
But in this lady's hands and lips and eyes;
Through these she yields you life that vivifies
What else were sorrow's servant and death's thrall
Look on thyself without her and recall
The waste remembrance and forlorn sunrise
That liv'd but in a dead drawn breath of sighs
O'er vanished hours and hours eventual.
Even so much life hath the poor tress of hair
Which stor'd apart, is all love hath to show
For heart beats and for fire-heats long ago
Even so much life endures unknown, even where,
Mid change the changeless night environeth
Lies all that phoenix feather hair undimm'd in death.
- Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The Girl With The Sun In Her Hair, John Barry ♫