XVII 
  
A WORLD IN A MANE 
  
  
LET me breathe long, long, the scent of 
thine hair; let me plunge my whole face into it 
as a thirsty man does in the water of a spring; 
let me stir thy tresses with thy hand like a per-
fumed kerchief to wave memories in the air! 
If thou couldst know all that I see, all that I 
feel, all that I hear in thy hair! my soul goes 
journeying upon the wings of perfume like that 
of other men upon the wings of music. 
Thy hair contains a world of dream, full of 
sails and masts; it holds great seas whose 
winds bear me to charming climates, where 
space is bluer and deeper, where the atmos-
phere is scented with fruit, with leaves, and 
with the skin of man. 
In the ocean of thy man I see a harbour, 
bust as an ant-heap with melancholy songs, 
with vigorous men of every nation, and with 
ships of every style, whose fine and compli-
cated architecture is silhouetted on a vast sky 
where stalks forth the eternal heat.