How long must I continue to debate
My happiness, and how it came to be?
Must I obsess about how to create
More joy? Can I not let what presently
Makes me so happy be itself my bliss,
But must, perforce, mull over without end
The wonder of how my life came to this?
I fear this but continues a great trend
Of over-contemplation in my soul,
Which threatens in a way to overtake
That which it thinks about: my happy whole.
What a mistake that would now be to make!
But as I ponder it, I notice too
Each thought is happy, since they are of you.
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