The time I went to church I sat
By Mr. Rockefeller's hat.
It stood upon its silken crown,
A lovely sheen along the brim,
Distracting, even upside down,
Disturbing every prayer and hymn,
With three initials in pure gold
Aglitter from the lining's fold.

Beside me on the crimson plush,
It shimmered gravely in the hush
Of potted calla lilies, ferns,
Of stately tapers decorously
Alight, of gracious blooms in urns,
All odorous of sanctity.
It added lustre to the view
Of Mr. Rockefeller, too.