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