On an Old Muff

Time has a magic wand! What is this meets my hand, Moth-eaten, mouldy, and Covered with fluff, Faded and stiff and scant? Can it be? no, it can’t,— Yes,—I declare ’t is Aunt Prudence’s Muff! Years ago—twenty-three! Old Uncle Barnaby Gave it to Aunty P., Laughing and teasing,— “Pru. of the breezy curls, Whisper these solemn churls, What holds a pretty girl’s Hand without squeezing?” Uncle was then a lad, Gay, but, I grieve to add, Gone to what ’s called “the bad,”— Smoking,—and worse! Sleek sable then was this Muff, lined with pinkiness,— Bloom to which beauty is Seldom averse. I see in retrospect Aunt, in her best bedecked, Gliding, with mien erect, Gravely to meeting: Psalm-book, and kerchief new, Peeped from the Muff of Pru., Young men—and pious, too— Giving her greeting. Pure was the life she led Then: from her Muff, ’t is said, Tracts she distributed;— Scapegraces many, Seeing the grace they lacked, Followed her; one attacked Prudence, and got his tract, Oftener than any! Love has a potent spell! Soon this bold ne’er-do-well, Aunt’s sweet susceptible Heart undermining, Slipped, so the scandal runs, Notes in the pretty nun’s Muff,—triple-cornered ones,— Pink as its lining! Worse, even, soon the jade Fled (to oblige her blade!) Whilst her friends thought that they ’d Locked her up tightly: After such shocking games, Aunt is of wedded dames Gayest,—and now her name ’s Mrs. Golightly. In female conduct flaw Sadder I never saw, Still I ’ve faith in the law Of compensation. Once uncle went astray,— Smoked, joked, and swore away; Sworn by, he ’s now, by a Large congregation! Changed is the child of sin; Now he ’s (he once was thin) Grave, with a double chin,— Blest be his fat form! Changed is the garb he wore: Preacher was never more Prized than is uncle for Pulpit or platform. If all ’s as best befits Mortals of slender wits, Then beg this Muff, and its Fair owner pardon; All ’s for the best,—indeed, Such is my simple creed; Still I must go and weed Hard in my garden.