Classic Poem

Strip off my mask of laughter from my face
And find it seamed with stark realities:
The eye absorbs the soul of what it sees,
And I stare long at things whose bleaker grace
Seldom in woman's warmer realm has place —
Thy days are rapt with mortal mysteries;
I dwell among austere philosophies,
Dreaming of life and time and death and space,

Old gods resurgent, music visible;
Serene, aloof and chill I love to sit,
Tranced in a thought of heaven and earth and hell;
My dreams I hedge about with bitter wit.
Passion I understand, but ask not Faith —
How quick I'd leave thee for some Muse's wraith!