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All English Sonnets

All mysterious miracles contain,
A simple explanation, simple cause,
And they are very easy to explain,
And I am very sure of it because,

I now am caught in such a happenstance,
My happy nature now has turned so grave,
For ever and forever in a trance,
I keep on living like idiotic knave.

My foes and friends are baffled at this change,
And glances sly and pitiful exchange.
But I am deep in love and what is more,
I lost account of time, can not count.

My burns in rational numbers and therefore,
To play with roaring flames is my writ.

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