So, Blind To Someone I Must Be.

Dobbin At Manger Pulls His Hay: Gone Is Another Summer's Day.

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

The Sandy Cat By The Farmer's Chair Mews At His Knee For Dainty Fare; Old Rover In His Moss-greened House Mumbles A Bone, And Barks At A Mouse. In The Dewy Fields The Cattle Lie Chewing The Cud 'neath A Fading Sky; Dobbin At Manger Pulls His Hay: Gone Is Another Summer's Day.

Hi! Handsome Hunting Man Fire Your Little Gun. Bang! Now The Animal Is Dead And Dumb And Done. Nevermore To Peep Again, Creep Again, Leap Again, Eat Or Sleep Or Drink Again. Oh, What Fun!

Slowly, Silently, Now The Moon Walks The Night In Her Silver Shoon.