Oh, The Hats
The cities, oh, the cities,
Chicago, New York and St. Lou,
Sacramento to Pittsburg to Boston,
Upward and outward they grew.
The shoes, oh, the shoes,
The pairs had no left and no right!
Clumping in streets of wet clay and mud,
I shudder, appraising their plight!
The hems, oh, the hems,
Of multiple ankle-length skirts!
And oh, those cantankerous corsets,
Resolutely drawn in till it hurts!
The wool, oh, the wool,
Some folks would have never survived.
Though itchy and scratchy and rough,
It kept many adventures alive!
But the hats, oh, the hats,
On peacock feathers they splurged!
When pheasants and quails donated their tails,
The ladies all fluttered like birds!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Oh, The Hats by Connie Yost )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Michael P. McParland
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love .., Pablo Neruda
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