The Poet Explains His Mirth

it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
Those, they say, whose naivete
Is nuanced beyond belief
The eternal cynic, the worldly may
In 'nothing' find their relief
To I, who never tore down a thing
Nor honor did stain to break or fling
Their empty sayings bring no grief
I see clearly through, and so I sing.

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