AMONG her curls with wanton glee The breezes play caressingly, Catch up stray locks with cunning grace, And as she turns aside her face, Blow them about provokingly. Then with a smile that's fair to see She tries, and most coquettishly, To stop the breeze's merry race Among her curls. But all in vain, for now one wee Small lock escapes, and is still free. And as I peer beneath the lace I see, stowed snugly in its place, A tiny switch put secretly Among her curls. |