APOLOGETIC POSTSCRIPT OF A YEAR LATER

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If you see this song, my dear,
And last year’s toast,
I’m confoundedly in fear
You’ll be serious and severe
About the boast.

Blame not that I sought such aid
To cure regret.
I was then so lowly laid
I used all the Gasconnade
That I could get.

Being snubbed is somewhat smart,
Believe, my sweet;
And I needed all my art
To restore my broken heart
To its conceit.

Come and smile, dear, and forget
I boasted so,
I apologise—regret—
It was all a jest;—and—yet—
I do not know.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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