Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems/My Infundibuliform Hat


 * The scenes of my childhood, how oft I recall!
 * The sports of my youth, with my kite, top, and ball;
 * And that happy day when, with spirits elate,
 * I took my first step towards manhood's estate,
 * With a new coat and vest, bosom shirt and cravat,
 * And début with my infundibuliform hat.


 * How I stooped beneath awnings full seven feet high,
 * To the no small delight of my friends passing by;
 * And the sport that I made for the boys at the store
 * When I "chalked" at the height of my "tile" on the door;
 * One foot and two inches—I think it was that—
 * My guess on that infundibuliform hat.


 * Then my maiden attempt as a maiden's gallant
 * When I proffered my elbow, with glances aslant;
 * And the walk to her dwelling that evening so fair,
 * Not to speak of the tete-a-tete when we got there,
 * The forfeit I claimed, as together we sat,
 * When she tried on my infundibuliform hat.

*******


 * Well! boys will be boys, and we men, after all,
 * Would gladly be freed from Time's pitiless thrall,
 * And live those days over, when, single and free—
 * Zounds! wife's looking over my shoulder to see
 * What I have been writing. . . . Well, we've had a spat,
 * And she smashed my infundibuliform hat.