TO MOLLY—AN APRIL FOOL.

You never, Molly, plucked the chances

Last Leap Year brought of wedded rapture,

(Since Flattery wins, where Beauty's glances

Have failed to perpetrate a capture)?

You never wrote to crave my fortune

That February! Bashful, may be,

Or over-fearful to importune

A parti so renowned, you gaby!

Imprudent damsel, to let slip

So much insouciance and money!

I bear no malice now, and dip

This goosequill not in gall, but honey,

I supplicate thee to be mine,

Bewitching Fair, thy lode-star mocking:

To sweetest vengeance I incline.

(Great Scott! the sacrifice is shocking!)

With you to share a gem unique,

My best possession, foolish Molly,

This is the penalty I seek,

Dear fool of Spring, dear spring of Folly!

Yet, ere I give myself away,

And abdicate on foolscap flimsy,

Let me implore you, mark the day—

Time-honoured feast of prank and whimsy.

Of my pet self, I offer half—

To gain it myriads have endeavoured,

So take it, take my photograph

Inclosed, and most adroitly severed.