a sonnet

That thou may'st happly spend your day

Fair maid amongst the northern hills

With books and study that will oft defray

Your time and thought in winter's chills;

That there is pleasure 'mongst your shelves

Oh lady in your cottage home

Tis proven by each and everyone who delves

In dusty library vaults to hunt a tome;

That thy bookish studies are good I swear

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what spills onto         the page

falls from                  my mind:

it tells of                   what is there

it tastes of                 my thoughts

so they are                spread here                      with care

                                                                        as verse

the page                    becomes

my mind                    bared

...

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