April Fools by Lewis Brockman

My Celia hath so sweet a way,
‘Neath trembling lids the bright dew lies,
She listens to each word I say
With pensive grace;
Her breast is big with amorous sighs,
The gathering tears she scarce can stay,
Her bosom’s quickened fall and rise
With joy I trace;
Fool!—see’st thou not the mirthful ray
That ripples o’er those dewy eyes?—
Lo! Celia, like an April day,
Laughs in thy face.

My Delia hath a soul so bright
She laugheth all the day, and sings
Till sunshine fills the heart of night
From her full throat;
I marvel heaven hath found no wings
For her, that in her tuneful flight
To listening worlds her carollings
Might downward float.
I press my love; when, lo! her light
Dissolves ’mid sighs and murmurings
In April showers, and ceases quite
Her soft sweet note.

From Celia’s laugh and Delia’s tears,
From Delia’s song and Celia’s sighs,
From two such maids, in two such spheres,
Who bear such rule,
Happy the swain and sage who flies,
Nor lingereth ‘mid hopes and fears,
With Delia’s lips and Celia’s eyes
To go to school!
In Delia, laughing, Love appears;
The rogue in Celia pants and dies;
And I, poor wight, of both these dears
Am made a fool!

From: Brockman, Lewis, Poems, 1894, Horace Cox: London, pp. 152-153.

Date: 1894

By: Lewis Brockman (fl. 1894) April Fools (1 April 2021)

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