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    Sometimes I'd mount a horse on the back of a rattling-boned Rozinante - fearing they'd still carry me - and give the many honey-talking serenades of good wishes and romantic endearments lost in the dark-cloaked night where it would be just me and my darling filling the universe! Moira and Ananque dictated arbitrarily the divine command, and all hope that ever had been in me as a possibility of hope was shattered and destroyed! I could have been Don Quixote out of a ladies' fair hope, the only lasting 

    for a single glance of the wing-hoofs of their windows daily, and the only reward he may inherit: the hearty oath of noble and faithful glances, the gratitude of his compliments! And the rage of throne-stealing Adonis would never threaten with unheard-of confidence, Nor the haughty pride of beasts! - The heart of woman is that which daily needs conquest, unselfish devotion, and responsibility 

    nor need I leap the harnessed-guards of lost Judas-kisses in spite of volcanic tensions - I would go on to the Eden-gardens of refreshing arbours-gardens beside my faithful guitar-buddy, and, with compliments, if I could! A more wonderful, earthly, immortal love-feeling, I'd be bold to tell it anytime!

    Perhaps I am but a disinterested idiot of compliments: I have dared to believe the deluded, deceitful fancies, That have trampled me down and left me for one whose heart I once knew better!                      


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