RAG-TAG AND BOB-TAIL 



Rag-tag and bob-tail, 



Finery won't last; 

 AH display is laid aside 



Now that summer's past. 



The catbird's doffed his cutaway, 



The robin, his loud vest; 

 The oriole, his robe of flame; 



The quail, his visored crest. 



There's tarnish on the marigold, 

 The corn-flower's blue cockade 



Is rent and tattered. At their edge 

 The dahlia cuffs are frayed. 



The poplar's lost its glossiness. 



The willow tree its gleams, 

 The facing of the maple leaves 



Shows wear along the seams. 



Rag-tag and bob-tail. 



Who would ever guess 

 Spring's young joy in foppery 



And in gaudiness? 



[279] 



