Now Spring bedecks with nascent green
The meadows near and far,
And Sabbath calm pervades the scene,
And Sabbath punts the Cher.:
While I, like trees new drest by June,
Must bow to Fashion's law,
And wear on Sunday afternoon
A variegated Straw.
My Topper! so serenely sleek,
So beautifully tall,
Wherein I decked me once a week
Whene'er I went to call,—
No more shall now th' admiring maid,
While handing me my tea,
View her reflected charms displayed
(Narcissus-like) in thee!
Yet oh! though different forms of hat
May wreathe my manly brow,
No Straw shall e'er (be sure of that)
Be half so dear as thou.
Hang then upon thy native rack
As varying modes compel,
Till next year's fashions bring thee back,
My Chimneypot, farewell!