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Poem by Edith Nesbit Philosophy THE sulky sage scarce condescends to see This pretty world of sun and grass and leaves; To him ’tis all illusion—only he Is real amid the visions he perceives. No sage am I, and yet, by Love’s decree, To me the world’s a masque of shadows too, And I a shadow also—since to me The only real thing in life is—you. Edith Nesbit Edith Nesbit's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1245 Views |
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