But by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear,
(Which never more shall join its parted hair;
Which never more its honours shall renew, 135
Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew)
That while my draw the vital air,
This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.
(Which never more shall join its parted hair;
Which never more its honours shall renew, 135
Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew)
That while my draw the vital air,
This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.
Alexander Pope
