Sonnet Ii

Oh I do love thee, meek Simplicity! For of thy lays the lulling simpleness Goes to my heart, and soothes each small distress, Distress the small, yet haply great to me. ’Tis true on Lady Fortune’s gentlest pad I amble on; and yet I know not why So sad I am! but should a friend and I Frown, pout and part, then I am very sad. And then with sonnets and with sympathy My dreamy bosom’s mystic woes I pall: Now of my false friend plaining plaintively, Now raving at mankind in general; But whether sad or fierce, ’tis simple all, All very simple, meek Simplicity!