Sonnet XXVI

The world is woven all of dream and

And but one sureness in our truth may lie--That when we hold to aught our thinking's

We know it not by knowing it thereby.

For but one side of things the mirror knows,

And knows it colded from its solidness.

A double lie its truth is; what it

By true show's false and nowhere by true place.

Thought clouds our life's day-sense with strangeness,

Never from strangeness more than that it's

Doth buy our perplexed thinking, for we

But the words' sense from words--knowledge, truth, change.  We know the world is false, not what is true.  Yet we think on, knowing we ne'er shall know.