Yet oftentimes I dwell on things gone by,
And rend my soul to nothing one can mend,
And think on those to whom I've said, "Good-bye."
There's one who's sorely missed as days do speed --
Dear friend, you were, well lov-ed in your time.
Oh! Nothing can assuage my deepest need,
And nothing will e’er exculpate the crime:
To leave the grapes untended on the vine;
To end the race before it has been won;
To pour the juice before it can be wine;
To let the harvest spoil in the sun.
Oh, Arch Deluxe,
To amble out and join in on the dance!