Josephine Preston Peabody (Жозефина Престон Пибоди)

Curls

It happens that way in the world
With everything you see.
Some people have their hair all curl'd,
Some straight as straight can be.
It is a Mystery.

Yes, some have hair that waves and clings,
And does all kinds of curly things;--
And some not ever, till they Die.
And nobody knows Why....
And some,--already born with Curls,
Some of them are not even Girls!

   *   *   *   *   *

I always think,--of Curly Hair,
It looks as if the Curls came there
The way I hum around a song
More things than really do belong.
The happier I feel, the more
I sing, I never heard before!
I curl more music round the Air,
The way it looks with Curly Hair.


[Envoi]

But you may sing all day, you know;
You cannot really make it grow.
And you may know it is Not Fair;
But that won't give you Curly Hair.

Josephine Preston Peabody’s other poems:

  1. Polite Visitor
  2. The Mystic
  3. The Play’s the Thing
  4. The Masterpiece
  5. The Sorrows




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