Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems/My Infundibuliform Hat

by Charles Follen Adams

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.

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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.