Anonymous British

April Day

This day to common love is dear, And many a tale will sooth thine ear, Fond hope or frolic wit to prove; The theme of minstrelsy I change, I bring a tribute new and strange. A tale of hatred, not of love. I love thee not! -- did ever zeal A rare miracle reveal, Thy pity or thy mirth to move? 'Tis true; -- for all thy faults I guess, And strive to make thy beauties less-- What more is hate, if this be love? Thy wit is false, for, when my cheek Fades with the fear that cannot speak, My pangs thy sparkling jest improve; And, while I tremble, how much guile Lurks in thy lip and points thy smile-- The smile which stings, yet wakens love! Thine eye -- a scorching fire is there; For, though I chide, I never dare The keenness of its flash to prove. Thy voice has won the Elf-Harp's sound-- I hear it, and my tongue is bound, Or wanders into words of love. Behold thy faults! -- yet keep them all, That I my senses may recall, When spell-bound in thy sphere they rove My malice as thy pride is great-- There is no language fits my hate, Unless it tells thee -- that I love! Found in Wm. Hone's The Year Book of Daily Recreation and Information, for April 1, 1838, which says, "In some parts of North America the First of April is observed like St. Valentine's day, with this difference, that the boys are allowed to chastise the girls, if they think fit, either with words or blows. The practice is referred to in the following verses by a native, extracted from an American Journal. "