Classic Poem

Thou wast an aged yokel long ago;
Thou, antic clown, discoverest through a wife
A hut can hide a complicated life,
And bran-fed man with grief walk to and fro.

Anon into the desert dost thou go;
Wherein there is not much whereon to thrive;
Rough Anthony is very apt to drive
Thee further onward in thy course of woe
Anthony, spilling honey, bids thee glean
The same again; and, having torn thy coat,
Upbraids thy raggedness. Thy outward gear

Was dumb obedience and godly fear,
And all simplicity. Let us take note
How wise a man a simpleton has been.