[Illustration]
Oh, AMARYLLIS, in the shade
Of Rotten Row, with ribbons, feather,
And wide-spread brim your hat is made!
Down by the sea, in windy weather,
A sailor hat,
So small and flat,
Is far more natty altogether.
Down by, or on, the waves where swim
The tribes which poets christen "finny,"
This hat might not, with narrow brim,
Become a spinster sear and skinny--
Some say "old cat"--
Nor one too fat,
Nor little brat, small piccaninny.
But, with it fixed upon your hair,
When breezes blow your flapping dresses,
You look, if possible, more fair;
There's one beholder who confesses
He dotes on that
Sweet sailor hat,
When gazing at those sweeter tresses.
* * * * *