And caught her eyes a cauterising me,
And O, the pride, when first in joyous vein,
“Mrs. Polonius!” I said—“Champagne?”
To which she answered (every word I treasure)
“Aaron Polonius, I will with pleasure.”
Polonius sings. Air—“The light of other days.”
But all that sort of thing has faded,
The honeymoon’s o’ercast!
The horse, you know, is soonest jaded,
Who goes at first too fast!