The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise; br I barter curl for curl upon that mart, br And from my poet's forehead to my heart br Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,-- br As purply black, as erst to Pindar's eyes br The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart br The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart,... br The bay-crown's shade, Belovèd, I surmise, br Still lingers on thy curl, it so black! br Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath, br I tie the shadows safe from gliding back, br And lay the gift where nothing hindereth; br Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack br No natural heat till mine grows cold in death.