And far in the hazy distance
Of that dripping April day,
My snug hearth fire gleam'd redder and higher,
Because I was far away.
The rattle of wheels rang round me,
With a quaint and wooden roar,
And groups of the fair, with dishevelled hair,
Were lying about on the floor.
E'en I, in a moment of madness,
Had snatched at the fatal cup.