The world and life's too big to pass for a dream
Truth is within ourselves.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.
The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.