O silently she's combing
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously
With many a pretty air
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass
But still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking glass
I pray you, cease to comb out
Comb out your long hair
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence