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Poem by Elinor Wylie
If we must cheat ourselves with any dream, Then let it be a dream of nobleness: Since it is necessary to express Gall from black grapes--to sew an endless seam With a rusty needle--chase a spurious gleam Narrowing to the nothing through the less-- Since life’s no better than a bitter guess, And love’s a stranger--let us change the theme. Let us at least pretend--it may be true-- That we can close our lips on poisonous Dark wine diluted by the Stygean wave; And let me dream sublimity in you, And courage, liberal for the two of us: Let us at least pretend we can be brave.
Elinor Wylie's other poems:
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