Here are bonnets for all weathers,
Trimm’d with birds, and flowers, and feathers’
Tulle diaphanous that floats—
Each new device!
Gold-tipp’d grasses, silver oats,
Birds have yielded up their plumage, beasts their coats,—
At a price,
Which is down in Madame’s bills.
(Three guineas! only fancy for a wreath of daffodils!)
Why it chills,