FROM A HATTER.
Like to a beaver soft and fine,
Such is your skin, sweet Valentine;
As fine as any down your hair,
Which ever made a hat to wear;
Were I a beaver hat for thee
’Twould suit my wishes to a T;
When on your head I then did shine,
How blest would be your Valentine!
Oh! let me grace your pretty head,
There, with an ostrich-feather, spread,
How grand would be the lot of mine,
To call you dearest Valentine!