Do Diddle Di Do, Poor Jim Jay

So, Blind To Someone I Must Be.

But Beauty Vanishes; Beauty Passes; However Rare Rare It Be; And When I Crumble, Who Will Remember This Lady Of The West Country?

A Lost But Happy Dream May Shed Its Light Upon Our Waking Hours, And The Whole Day May Be Infected With The Gloom Of A Dreary Or Sorrowful One; Yet Of Neither May We Be Able To Recover A Trace.

Once A Man Strays Out Of The Common Herd, He's More Likely To Meet Wolves In The Thickets Than Angels.

What A Haunting, Inescapable Riddle Life Was.