"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!"