In January, I published an article about an 1882 poem told from the perspective of a cat in a muff. Today, I will cover an 1881 poem about a little girl’s first muff. This poem, like Winter Quarters before it, was published in Harper’s Young People, a 19th century children’s magazine. Today’s poem, My First Muff, was authored by “F.C.” – I did not ascertain the poet’s full name. I will re-print the poem as it appeared in 1882 with its original illustration.
In 2020, I touted the virtues of winter walks by using the example of the sometimes-prickly protagonist of The Secret Garden, Mary Lennox. But in order to enjoy a good winter walk, one must either be properly attired or treat the cold as a state of mind.
“My First Muff” by F.C. (1882)
Here's my little lady, Dressed with thoughtful care, Smiling at the sunlight, Smiling at the air. Whither, little lady, Whither shall we go? O'er the lofty hill-tops— Through the winter's snow? Will you with me wander Through the corpses bare, Where the dead leaves linger?— Autumn left them there. No, my little lady; Snows would damp your feet; Thorns would tear your jacket, Trimmed with ermine neat. I will fetch a carriage, Drawn by ponies fine, Lined with silken cushions, Fit for lady mine. We will drive right swiftly O'er the hill-tops then— Drive as quick as lighting Through the merry glen. Then my little lady Safe from harm will be, And her rich soft ermine From sharp thorns be free.