Leaves

Thus solitary in my singleness
I, unadorned, am merely what I am.
It is no bar itself to happiness;
Indeed I do not need to give a damn
About the world around me - is there one? -
Or anything that it might have in store.
I am sufficient in what I have done
To be myself, and, needing nothing more,
Can simply be. Ah, happy dream of life
To be myself and be so simply too,
Free from the cares of all exterior strife
And what those all around me care to do!
But dream it is; though single, I am still
No lonely hermit high up on a hill.