MOTHER’S BONNET
This is her bonnet, with ribbons arrayed,
Clearly a calico ambuscade;
It dates from the days of the bricks of straw—
This is the bonnet my mother wore.
This is the bonnet my mother donned
When she walked with a youth by Plymouth Pond;
’Twas the night she wore her beads of jade,
And father fell into the ambuscade.
This is the bonnet I found in a chest,
Daisies and bows in a lavender nest;
It looks like the plumes the Persians wore,
But it must have had wonderful power to draw.