Sonnet XVIII — I never gave a lock of hair away

I never gave a lock of hair awayTo a man, Dearest, except this to thee,Which now upon my fingers thoughtfullyI ring out to the full brown length and say"Take it." My day of youth went yesterday;My hair no longer bounds to my foot's glee,Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle-tree,As girls do, any more. It only mayNow shade on two pale cheeks, the mark of tears,Taught drooping from the head that hangs asideThrough sorrow's trick. I thought the funeral-shearsWould take this first; but Love is justified:Take it thou, . . finding pure, from all those years,The kiss my mother left here when she died.