XXX.I do not know what truth the false untruthOf this sad sense of the seen world may own,Or if this flowered plant bears also a fruitUnto the true reality unknown.But as the rainbow, neither earth’s nor sky’s,Stands in the dripping freshness of lulled rain,A hope, not real yet not fancy’s, liesAthwart the moment of our ceasing pain.Somehow, since pain is felt yet felt as ill,Hope hath a better warrant than being hoped;Since pain is felt as aught we should not feelMan hath a Nature’s reason for having groped,Since Time was Time and age and grief his measures,Towards a better shelter than Time’s pleasures.
I do not know what truth the false untruthOf this sad sense of the seen world may own,Or if this flowered plant bears also a fruitUnto the true reality unknown.But as the rainbow, neither earth’s nor sky’s,Stands in the dripping freshness of lulled rain,A hope, not real yet not fancy’s, liesAthwart the moment of our ceasing pain.Somehow, since pain is felt yet felt as ill,Hope hath a better warrant than being hoped;Since pain is felt as aught we should not feelMan hath a Nature’s reason for having groped,Since Time was Time and age and grief his measures,Towards a better shelter than Time’s pleasures.