By a great foreign Maestro) expressly to stare
At ze gent wiz ze joli chapeau.
Yet how swift is the transit from laughter to tears!
Our glories, how fleeting are they!
That Hat might (with care) have adorn’d me for years;
But ’twas ruin’d, alack, in a day!
How I loved thee, my Bright One! I wrench in remorse,
My hands from my coat-tail and wring ’em:
“Why did not I, why, as a matter of course,
When I purchas’d thee, purchase a Gingham!”