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Poem by Edith Nesbit


   THE sulky sage scarce condescends to see
      This pretty world of sun and grass and leaves;
   To him tis all illusiononly he
      Is real amid the visions he perceives.

   No sage am I, and yet, by Loves decree,
      To me the worlds a masque of shadows too,
   And I a shadow alsosince to me
      The only real thing in life isyou.

Edith Nesbit

Edith Nesbit's other poems:
  1. Saturday Song
  2. The Whirligig of Time
  3. For Dolly Who Does Not Learn Her Lessons
  4. The December Rose
  5. The Fire

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Norman Gale Philosophy ("'Tis sometimes Fortune's little joke")
  • Richard Hovey Philosophy ("I SOMETIMES long to throw my books away")
  • Amy Levy Philosophy ("Ere all the world had grown so drear")
  • Ella Wilcox Philosophy ("At morn the wise man walked abroad")

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