I Know This: If Life Is Illusion,

I Have Gone Into Yesterday And Tomorrow And Both Were As Real As Today -- Which Is Like The Dreams Of Ghosts!

There Comes, Even To Kings, The Time Of Great Weariness. Then The Gold Of The Throne Is Brass, The Silk Of The Palace Becomes Drab. The Gems In The Diadem And Upon The Fingers Of The Women Sparkle Drearily Like The Ice Of White Seas; The Speech Of Men Is As The Empty Rattle Of A Jester's Bell And The Feel Comes Of Things Unreal; Even The Sun Is Copper In The Sky And The Breath Of The Green Ocean Is No Longer Fresh.

Men Are But Men, And The Greatest Men Are They Who Soonest Learn The Simpler Things.

All Fled—all Done, So Lift Me On The Pyre— The Feast Is Over, And The Lamps Expire.

The Only Safe Enemy Was A Headless Enemy.