Classic Poem

The table is laid,
The bed is made,
Breakfast and night
Make the day seem right.

Then right grows wrong as the day hardens into time.
For truth is not so full of right and argument,
So much, so long, so full of solid furnitures.
The place that earth imagines of is not so earth-like.
The death to know is not so dead, so full of corpses.
A self-judged universe of fact at evening calls
Good-bye to time — but morning shows another one.
When yesterday shall seem to-morrow, that's the true lie.
And that which will be was, as many days ago
As Now is repetitions of itself.
For every certain meal, there's a lost appetite
For hunger's progress. For every sitting late
To make the mind more wise, wisdom by so much
Is finally unaged, returned to simpleness
By knowing all it can, and smiling " wise enough".


The next world is
As near to this
As time is similar
To truth familiar.