Poems (Geisse)/The Complaint of a Bonnet

by Mary A. Geisse

THE COMPLAINT OF A BONNET.

I once was a Sunday bonnet
 And shaded a lovely face,
But now for some reason or other
 I find I'm in disgrace.

My fair young mistress treats me
 With unrelenting scorn;
Excepting in bad weather
 She never puts me on.

She took away my bandbox
 To shelter her new hat;
She says I am not stylish,
 What can she mean by that?

She says my rim's too flaring.
 And that my crown's too small;
And yet, upon my honor,
 I haven't changed at all.

I am the very bonnet
 That she admired so,
And purchased with such pleasure.
 But one short year ago.

So why I've ceased to please her,
 Is more than I can tell,
For of one thing I'm certain
 That I became her well.

And as for grace and beauty,
 Why any one can see,
The hat that she is wearing
 Does not compare with me.