Painting a Picture

I am a dreamer and I am a man
And I am a farmer that lives for the land
I have my calluses but I have no name
I make no differences I have no fame 
But she is a goddess that lives on a throne
An elegant angel yet to go home
And she is a queen to me—flawless, refined
Sufficiently superior to those of my kind

And then she comes, she smiles,
And the sun is shining again
She's painting a picture, a picture in my eyes
And, oh, she's a mystery, a mystery
She glides, a taciturn thief of the mind
And in her wake I continue to find
That it's one more day, hey, and
I'm on my way again

I don’t have mansions and I don’t have men
And I don’t have symphonies to welcome her in
But I have my emeralds in the oceans and seas
And I have my gold fields all around me
But she has her libraries she has her balls
Intelligence, philosophy to silence my calls
And she holds the nations in the palm of her hand
With daunting civility I can’t understand

And in the daylight I work away
And in the moonlight I think away
And in the meantime I’m on my way
Again

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A little history:

Sometimes you are TOTALLY outclassed.  This gem was crafted under the influence of one such lass.