Curly Locks

_Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine,-- But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream._ Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? The throb of my heart is in every line, And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad In its musical beat as the little Prince had! Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine!-- O I'll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be As a little pet blush in full blossom for me. But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream,-- The red of my veins, and the white of my love, And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof. And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream From a service of silver, with jewels agleam,-- At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise, And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes! _Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine.-- But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream._