Panning for the mirror within a new man’s mind,
Can lead to bouts of ardour (that sinking feeling kind)
For gold that gleams so brightly might charm magpies from the oak;
And a wolf that bites twice nightly, may be just a screen of smoke.
Bathsheba felt this restless: ‘Vale of life not quiet nor cool’
But pride and vanity ruins cobbler’s dogs and so can break the fool.
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