[BNP/E3, 16A – 41]

p. 597 [865]

The world is woven all of dream and error

And but one sureness in {…} may lie:

That when we hold to aught our thinking's mirror

We know it not nor guess it not thereby.

_______

For but one face[1] of things the mirror knows,

And knows it colded from its solidness.

A double lie its truth is, what it shows

It shows easily well, and |loyally| less.

_______

Thought everydays our life's day-sense with strangeness, yet

Never from strangeness more than that it[2] strange

Doth |*fetch| our perplexed thinking, for we fit[3]

Vainly sacred words[4]; — “knowledge”, “truth”, “change”.

We know the world is false – But[5] what is true?

Yet we think on, knowing there is no clue.[6]

 
[1] face /side\/look\
[2] it /it's\
[3] fit /get\
[4] Vainly sacred words /|(From words each his own sense)|\
[5] But /not\
[6] knowing there is no clue. /knowing we ne'er shall know.\