When easy, I go to the village Clown
He stares down at the ground in Sadness.
I ask him “What, was the dawn of the down?”
The reply raptured my Soul; what, Madness.
A sound, yet silken answer that so fumbled,
Her plain, narrow vision of little ways.
“Lady, hither, thou must be rightly humbled.”
Said He, looking straight at her deathly face.
Finding herself at the sleight of Sorrow,
She wears a frown on her, one of His ploys;
And what more, she thought that she saw Borrow:
That boy in the dark, stealing your Play’s toys.
“I tell thee, Joy presents itself in Mind;
So please, please forgive thyself and be kind.”