The poem
What I seek far yet seldom find Is large simplicity of mind In fellow men; For I have sprouted from the sod, Like Bobbie Burns, my earthly god, --From plough to pen.
So I refuse my brain to vex With problems prosy and complex, Beyond my scope; To me simplicity is peace, So I persue it without cease, And growing hope.
"The world is too much with us," wrote Wise Wordsworth, whom I love to quote, When rhymes are coy; And simple is the world I see, With bud and bloom and brook and tree To give me joy.
So blissfully I slip away From brazen and dynamic day To dingle cool . . . Now tell me friend, if in your eyes, By being simple I am wise,-- Or just a fool?