Words as plain as hen-birds' wings
Do not lie,
Do not over-broider things -
Are too shy.
Thoughts that shuffle round like pence
Through each reign,
Wear down to their simplest sense
Yet remain.
Weeds are not supposed to grow
But by degrees
Some achieve a flower, although
No one sees.
This is apparently a humble poem. The content and the form are both about the same thing regarding simplicity or, as the title denotes, modesty. It does not express very complex ideas even though they can be considered as important ones.
The lines vary in length giving the poem a bounce, like some kind of internal discussion where the speaker argues with himself drawing a rhythm or pattern