'Mid my gold-brown curls 
 There twined a silver hair: 
 I plucked it idly out 
 And scarcely knew 'twas there. 
 Coiled in my velvet sleeve it lay 
 And like a serpent hissed: 
 "Me thou canst pluck & fling away, 
 One hair is lightly missed; 
 But how on that near day 
 When all the wintry army muster in array?"