ON A CRUSHED HAT
Reading edition
Brown was my friend, and faithful—but so fat! He came to see me in the twilight dim; I rose politely and invited him To take a seat—how heavily he sat!
He sat upon the sofa, where my hat, My wanton Zephyr, rested on its rim; Its build, unlike my friend’s, was rather slim, And when he rose, I saw it, crushed and flat.
O Hat, that wast the apple of my eye, Thy brim is bent, six cracks are in thy crown, And I shall never wear thee any more; Upon a shelf thy loved remains shall lie, And with the years the dust will settle down On thee, the neatest hat I ever wore!