Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/My Old Hat
My Old Hat.
I had a hat—it was not all a hat,
Part of the brim was gone—yet still I wore
It on, and people wondered as I passed.
Some turned to gaze—others just cast an eye
And soon withdrew it, as 'twere in contempt.
But still my hat, although so fashionless
In complement extern, had that within
Surpassing show—my head continued warm;
Being sheltered from the weather, spite of all
The want (as has been said before) of brim.
Part of the brim was gone—yet still I wore
It on, and people wondered as I passed.
Some turned to gaze—others just cast an eye
And soon withdrew it, as 'twere in contempt.
But still my hat, although so fashionless
In complement extern, had that within
Surpassing show—my head continued warm;
Being sheltered from the weather, spite of all
The want (as has been said before) of brim.
A change came o'er the colour of my hat.
That which was black grew brown—and then men stared
With both their eyes (they stared with one before).
The wonder now was twofold; and it seemed
Strange that a thing so torn and old should still
Be worn by one who might but let that pass!
I had my reasons, which might be revealed
But for some counter-reasons, far more strong,
Which tied my tongue to silence. Time passed on,
Green spring, and flowery summer, autumn brown,
And frosty winter came,—and went and came,
And still through all the seasons of two years,
In park and city, yea, at parties—balls—
The hat was worn and borne. Then folks grew wild
With curiosity, and whispers rose,
And questions passed about—how one so trim
In coats, boots, ties, gloves, trousers, could insconce
His caput in a covering so vile.
That which was black grew brown—and then men stared
With both their eyes (they stared with one before).
The wonder now was twofold; and it seemed
Strange that a thing so torn and old should still
Be worn by one who might but let that pass!
I had my reasons, which might be revealed
But for some counter-reasons, far more strong,
Which tied my tongue to silence. Time passed on,
Green spring, and flowery summer, autumn brown,
And frosty winter came,—and went and came,
And still through all the seasons of two years,
In park and city, yea, at parties—balls—
The hat was worn and borne. Then folks grew wild
With curiosity, and whispers rose,
And questions passed about—how one so trim
In coats, boots, ties, gloves, trousers, could insconce
His caput in a covering so vile.
A change came o'er the nature of my hat.
Grease-spots appeared—but, still in silence, on
I wore it, and then family, and friends
Glared madly at each other. There was one
Who said—but hold—no matter what was said;
A time may come when Iaway, away
Not till the season's ripe can I reveal
Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds—
Till then the world shall not pluck out the heart
Of this my mystery. When I will, I will!
The hat was now greasy, and old, and torn,
But torn, old, greasy, still I wore it on.
Grease-spots appeared—but, still in silence, on
I wore it, and then family, and friends
Glared madly at each other. There was one
Who said—but hold—no matter what was said;
A time may come when Iaway, away
Not till the season's ripe can I reveal
Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds—
Till then the world shall not pluck out the heart
Of this my mystery. When I will, I will!
The hat was now greasy, and old, and torn,
But torn, old, greasy, still I wore it on.
A change came o'er the business of this hat.
Women, and men, and children scowled on me—
My company was shunned—I was alone!
None would associate with such a hat—
Friendship itself proved faithless for a hat.
She that I loved, within whose gentle breast
I treasured up my heart, looked cold as death—
Love's fires went out—extinguished by a hat.
Of those who knew me best, some turned aside,
And scudded down dark lanes; one man did place
His finger on his nose's side, and jeered;
Others in horrid mockery laughed outright;
Yea, dogs, deceived by instinct's dubious ray,
Fixing their swart glare on my ragged hat,
Mistook me for a beggar, arid they barked.
Thus women, men, friends, strangers, lovers, dogs,
One thought pervaded all—it was my hat.
Women, and men, and children scowled on me—
My company was shunned—I was alone!
None would associate with such a hat—
Friendship itself proved faithless for a hat.
She that I loved, within whose gentle breast
I treasured up my heart, looked cold as death—
Love's fires went out—extinguished by a hat.
Of those who knew me best, some turned aside,
And scudded down dark lanes; one man did place
His finger on his nose's side, and jeered;
Others in horrid mockery laughed outright;
Yea, dogs, deceived by instinct's dubious ray,
Fixing their swart glare on my ragged hat,
Mistook me for a beggar, arid they barked.
Thus women, men, friends, strangers, lovers, dogs,
One thought pervaded all—it was my hat.
A change, it was the last, came o'er this hat,
For lo! at length the circling months went round:
The period was accomplished—and one day
This tattered, brown, old greasy coverture
(Time had endeared its vileness) was transferred
To the possession of a wandering son
Of Israel's fated race—and friends once more
Greeted my digits with the wonted squeeze:
Once more I went my way, along, along,
And plucked no wondering gaze; the hand of scorn
With its annoying finger, men, and dogs,
Once more grew pointless, jokeless, laughless, growlless—
And at last, not least of rescued blessings, love!
Love smiled on me again, when I assumed
A bran new chapeau of the Melton build;
And then the laugh was mine, for, then out came
The secret of this strangeness—'twas a bet,—
A friend had laid me fifty pounds to ten,
Three years I would not wear it—and I did!
For lo! at length the circling months went round:
The period was accomplished—and one day
This tattered, brown, old greasy coverture
(Time had endeared its vileness) was transferred
To the possession of a wandering son
Of Israel's fated race—and friends once more
Greeted my digits with the wonted squeeze:
Once more I went my way, along, along,
And plucked no wondering gaze; the hand of scorn
With its annoying finger, men, and dogs,
Once more grew pointless, jokeless, laughless, growlless—
And at last, not least of rescued blessings, love!
Love smiled on me again, when I assumed
A bran new chapeau of the Melton build;
And then the laugh was mine, for, then out came
The secret of this strangeness—'twas a bet,—
A friend had laid me fifty pounds to ten,
Three years I would not wear it—and I did!