Page:Poems Cook.djvu/314

Thy flapping shade and flying strings
Are worth a thousand close-tied things.
I love thy easy-fitting crown;
Thrust lightly back, or slouching down.
I cannot brook a mutiled ear,
When lark and blackbird whistle near;
And dearly like to meet and seek
The fresh wind with unguarded cheek.
Toss'd in a tree, thou'lt bear no harm;
Flung on the moss, thou'lt lose no charm;
Like many a real friend on earth,
Rough usage only proves thy worth,
          My Old Straw Hat.

The world will stare at those who wear
Rich snowy pearls in raven hair;
And diamonds flash bravely out
In chesnut tresses wreathed about:
The golden bands may twine and twirl,
Like shining snakes, through each fair curl;
And soft down with imperial grace
May bend o'er Beauty's blushing face:
But much I doubt if brows that bear
The jewell'd clasp and plumage rare,
Or temples bound with crescent wreath,
Are half so cool as mine beneath
          My Old Straw Hat.

Minerva's helmet! what of that?
Thou'rt quite as good, my Old Straw Hat;
For I can think, and muse, and dream,
With poring brain and busy scheme;
I can inform my craving soul
How wild bees work and planets roll;
And be all silent, grave, and grim,
Beneath the shelter of thy brim.

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