In Memoriam of John Partridge

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Isaac Bickerstaff views the signs
  From which the near truth he divines.
The last of March will be hard days
  For fellow soothsayer Partridge, he says.

A most famous victim of April first
  When in raging fever, your heart falsely burst.
You continue to conduct your business after
  To the widespread sounds of mourning and laughter.

The report of your death came quite quick
  Upon the prediction you would be fatally sick.
The stars spun against you this season
  As the news passed beyond rapid reason.

The joke is on you, dear John,
  As you wander streets hither and yon.
Your fame afore of which to boast
  Is supplanted by your premature ghost.