They are April fools to-day.
And then to her, whose smiles shed light on
My weary lot last year at Brighton,
I talk of happiness and marriage,
St. George's and a travelling carriage.
I trifle with my rosy fetters,
I rave about her 'witching letters,
And swear my heart shall do no treason
Before the closing of the season.
Thus I whisper in the ear