Thomas Hardy — The Tresses

        "When the air was damp It made my curls hang slack As they kissed my neck and back While I footed the salt-aired track         I loved to tramp.         "When it was dry They would roll up crisp and tight As I went on in the light Of the sun, which my own sprite         Seemed to outvie.         "Now I am old; And have not one gay curl As I had when a girl For dampness to unfurl         Or sun uphold!"


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