I Am Waylaid By Beauty.

Sorrow Like A Ceaseless Rain Beats Upon My Heart. People Twist And Scream In Pain-- Dawn Will Find Them Still Again; This Has Neither Wax Nor Wane, Neither Stop Nor Start.

Oh, Friend, Forget Not, When You Fain Would Note In Me A Beauty That Was Never Mine, How First You Knew Me In A Book I Wrote, How First You Loved Me For A Written Line.

What Should I Be But Just What I Am?

Guess I'll Weep Awhile. Guess I Won't, I Mean.

It's Not Love's Going Hurts My Days But That It Went In Little Ways.