O! I do love thee, meek Simplicity!
For of thy lays the lulling simpleness
Goes to my heart, and soothes each small distress--
Distress tho' small, yet haply great to me!
'Tis true, on Lady Fortune's gentlest pad
I amble on; yet tho' I know not why,
So sad I am! but should a friend and I
Grow cool and miff, O! 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.
More verses by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Sonnet Iii.
- Ode To Sara, In Answer To A Letter From Bristol
- Sonnet Xix. To A Friend, Who Asked How I Felt When The Nurse First Presented My Infant To Me
- Sonnet Xv. To Schiller
- To A Friend Who Had Declared His Intention Of Writing No More Poetry