SONG LYRIC.(Poem)

 
   So I became a woman when I realised I was plain. 
 
   Somehow a child learns to guess 
   the role determined by her face 
   and by her neighbour's native grace, 
   so she concedes to them their place-- 
   the women whom the poets bless, 
   who burn the page with loveliness. 
 
   For who writes songs to modest dress, 
   imagination, cleverness? 
   I put away my childhood when 
   I realised that the kindest men 
   would never find an antiphon for me; 
   the sonnet charms, the lyric's fair, 
   and how we ache for melody, 
   but what's the natural refrain 
   for women who are only ...