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.