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.