Each one displaying on its brim
A husband—fashion’s latest whim.
Clorinda tries them each in turn
Before the glass; some are too small,
And some too cold, and some too stern,
And some are slightly soiled, and all,
When punctured by the hat-pin’s steel,
Betray by squirms how bored they feel.
At last Clorinda came to one
Marked “Dobbs,” that scarce seemed worth her while;