O Life with the sad seared face
I weary of seeing thee
And thy draggled cloak, and thy hobbling pace
And thy too-forced pleasantry!

I know what thou would'st tell
Of Death, Time, Destiny -
I have known it long, and know, too, well
What it all means for me

But canst thou not array
Thyself in rare disguise
And feign like truth, for one mad day
That Earth is Paradise?

I'll tune me to the mood
And mumm with thee till eve;
And maybe what as interlude
I feign, I shall believe!