ON AN OLD MUFF
Time has a magic wand!
What is this meets my hand,
Moth-eaten, mouldy, and
Covered with fluff?
Faded, and stiff, and scant;
Can it be? no, it can't—
Yes,—I declare 'tis Aunt
Prudence's Muff!
Years ago—twenty-three!
Old Uncle Barnaby
Gave it to Aunty P.—
Laughing and teasing—
"Pru., of the breezy curls,
Whisper these solemn churls,
What holds a pretty girl's
Hand without squeezing?"
Uncle was then a lad
Gay, but, I grieve to add,
Sinful: if smoking bad
Baccy's a vice:
Glossy was then this mink
Muff, lined with pretty pink
Satin, which maidens think
"Awfully nice!"
I see, in retrospect,
Aunt, in her best bedecked,
Gliding, with mien erect,
Gravely to Meeting:
Psalm-book, and kerchief new,
Peeped from the muff of Pru.—
Young men—and pious too—
Giving her greeting.
Pure was the life she led
Then—from this Muff, 'tis said,
Tracts she distributed:—
Scapegraces many,
Seeing the grace they lacked,
Followed her—one, in fact,
Asked for—and got his tract
Oftener than any.
Love has a potent spell!
Soon this bold Ne'er-do-well,
Aunt's sweet susceptible
Heart undermining,
Slipped, so the scandal runs,
Notes in the pretty nun's
Muff—triple-cornered ones—
Pink as its lining!
Worse even, soon the jade
Fled (to oblige her blade!)
Whilst her friends thought that they'd
Locked her up tightly:
After such shocking games
Aunt is of wedded dames
Gayest—and now her name's
Mrs. Golightly.
In female conduct flaw
Sadder I never saw,
Still I've faith in the law
Of compensation.
Once Uncle went astray—
Smoked, joked, and swore away—
Sworn by, he's now, by a
Large congregation!
Changed is the Child of Sin,
Now he's (he once was thin)
Grave, with a double chin,—
Blest be his fat form!
Changed is the garb he wore,—
Preacher was never more
Prized than is Uncle for
Pulpit or platform.
If all's as best befits
Mortals of slender wits,
Then beg this Muff, and its
Fair Owner pardon:
All's for the best,—indeed
Such is my simple creed—
Still I must go and weed
Hard in my garden.