I believe my zealous friend is now residing at the sea-shore, freezing
in the cold sea-winds, and losing her breath every morning in the
briny wave, under the strange illusion that she is improving her
health.
FAREWELL.
They tell me my hat is old!
I scarce believe it so;
But since I'm uncivilly told
The dear old thing must go,
I bid thee farewell, old hat,
Good hat!
Farewell to thee, good old hat!
I must soon to the city his,
And trudge to some horrid store,
A smart new tile to buy,
With a heart exceedingly sore,
For I cast off a long-tried friend,
A close friend,--
I'm ashamed of a trusty old friend.
Ah, let me remember with tears
The day thou wast first my own,
When I settled thee over my ears,
Then with soap-locks overgrown.
"Hurra for a beaver hat,
A sleek hat!
A cheer for a sleek beaver hat!"
That day is in memory green
Among those that were all of that hue;
Sweet days of my youth! Ah! I've seen
But too many since that were _blue_.
How smooth was our front, my hat,
My first hat!
Unbent were our brows, my first hat!
The first dent,--what a sorrow it was!
Were it only my skull instead!
Indignant I think on the cause,
And pommel my stupid head.
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