MISCONCEPTION

I busied myself to find a sure

Snug hermitage

That should preserve my Love secure

From the world's rage;

Where no unseemly saturnals,

Or strident traffic-roars,

Or hum of intervolved cabals

Should echo at her doors.

I laboured that the diurnal spin

Of vanities

Should not contrive to suck her in

By dark degrees,

And cunningly operate to blur

Sweet teachings I had begun;

And then I went full-heart to her

To expound the glad deeds done.

She looked at me, and said thereto

With a pitying smile,

“And THIS is what has busied you

So long a while?

O poor exhausted one, I see

You have worn you old and thin

For naught! Those moils you fear for me

I find most pleasure in!”