XXVI.The world is woven all of dream and errorAnd but one sureness in our truth may lie—That when we hold to aught our thinking’s mirrorWe know it not by knowing it thereby.For but one side of things the mirror knows,And knows it colded from its solidness.A double lie its truth is; what it showsBy true show’s false and nowhere by true place.Thought clouds our life’s day-sense with strangeness, yetNever from strangeness more than that it’s strangeDoth buy our perplexed thinking, for we getBut the words’ sense from words—knowledge, truth, change.We know the world is false, not what is true.Yet we think on, knowing we ne’er shall know.
The world is woven all of dream and errorAnd but one sureness in our truth may lie—That when we hold to aught our thinking’s mirrorWe know it not by knowing it thereby.For but one side of things the mirror knows,And knows it colded from its solidness.A double lie its truth is; what it showsBy true show’s false and nowhere by true place.Thought clouds our life’s day-sense with strangeness, yetNever from strangeness more than that it’s strangeDoth buy our perplexed thinking, for we getBut the words’ sense from words—knowledge, truth, change.We know the world is false, not what is true.Yet we think on, knowing we ne’er shall know.