With curling lash and softly curling hair, And funny little curling, helpless tongue, That ever turns with innocent despair Round words of ours too queer, you are so young, So fresh and new, dear child by all adored, Like morning glory, opening toward the sun! May nothing rough with touch to be deplored Do harm to you, your morning just begun. Our sun is shining bright when you are near, For when with you, no moment's ever dull; You make our day a charming garden, dear, And every hour a bloom for us to cull. Beneath your curls there's honey, O how sweet! Buzz! Buzz! I'm coming, Marguerite! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLD HANDS WARM HEART by KAREN SWENSON IMAGES: 3 by RICHARD ALDINGTON THE DESERT WIND by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE FERRY by GEORGE HENRY BOKER THE BUSH-SPARROW by JOHN BURROUGHS OUR OLD CENTER-TOWN VERMONT MEETINGHOUSE by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |