The Poet Considers the Dreams of Man
Poemata XXV
I dwelt long in dreams, and this I know That the waking world quite long ago Lost its wondrous charm and seeming grace Since I saw beneath the mask a face Youth was spent in seeking sleep and dreams What is worth in waking when it seems Nothing good they suffer to exist All worth doing's done by those permissed Done before and treated with disdain Struggle something done only in vain Past a trophy to be hotly claimed Grasped and held in turn its glory drained; Sleep had held the chance of something new Worlds not yet so tired, so treadworn grew Reached by dismal science or by sin Danger such as was worth going in Where yet evil might to justice yield Since it could not level the playing field Did not reign from sea to shining sea Did not make of goodness a mockery Names might come to rest at last upon Those whose qualities they really don Death instead might come to finally show The conclusion to the herebelow; Yet of dreams behooved I am to say This benighted age must have its way Dreams are not another world for us Not a truer one that we could trust As invaded now by darkened fear With me will they come to disappear? Beauty makes no truth for us to see Since it lost its truth in revelry Ugliness itself will shine no light We who dream this last and shining night So if true they may be prophecy -- Damnéd folly those which cannot be.