The Musmee's hair could teach the night
How to grow dark, the raven's wing
How to seem ebon! Grand the sight
When, in rich masses, towering,
She builds each high black-marble coil,
And binds the gold and scarlet in;
And thrusts, triumphant, through the toil
The Kanzâshi, her jewelled pin.
The Musmee has wee faultless feet,
With snow-white tabi trimly decked,
Which patter down the city street
In short steps, slow and circumspect;
A velvet string between her toes
Holds to its place th' unwilling shoe:
Pretty and pigeon-like she goes,
And on her head a hood of blue.
The Musmee wears a wondrous dress—
Kimono, obi, imoji—
A rose-bush in Spring loveliness
Is not more color-glad to see!
