To The Tune Of A Neapolitan Villanel. All My Sense Thy Sweetness Gained; Thy Fair Hair My Heart Enchained; My Poor Reason Thy Words Moved, So That Thee, Like Heaven, I Loved. Fa, La, La, Leridan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Deridan: Dan, Dan, Dan, Deridan, Deridan, Dei: While To My Mind The Outside Stood, For Messenger Of Inward Good. Nor Thy Sweetness Sour Is Deemed; Thy Hair Not Worth A Hair Esteemed; Reason Hath Thy Words Removed, Finding That But Words They Proved. Fa, La, La, Leridan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Deridan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Deridan, Deridan, Dei: For No Fair Sign Can Credit Win, If That The Substance Fail Within. No More In Thy Sweetness Glory, For Thy Knitting Hair Be Sorry; Use Thy Words But To Bewail Thee That No More Thy Beams Avail Thee; Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Lay Not Thy Colours More To View, Without The Picture Be Found True. Woe To Me, Alas, She Weepeth! Fool! In Me What Folly Creepeth? Was I To Blaspheme Enraged, Where My Soul I Have Engaged? Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, And Wretched I Must Yield To This; The Fault I Blame Her Chasteness Is. Sweetness! Sweetly Pardon Folly; Tie Me, Hair, Your Captive Wholly: Words! O Words Of Heavenly Knowledge! Know, My Words Their Faults Acknowledge; Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, And All My Life I Will Confess, The Less I Love, I Live The Less.