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 If we must cheat ourselves with any dream, 
Then let it be a dream of nobleness: 
Since it is necessary to express 
Gall from black grapes--to sew an endless seam 
With a rusty needle--chase a spurious gleam 
Narrowing to the nothing through the less-- 
Since life's no better than a bitter guess, 
And love's a stranger--let us change the theme.
Let us at least pretend--it may be true-- That we can close our lips on poisonous Dark wine diluted by the Stygean wave; And let me dream sublimity in you, And courage, liberal for the two of us: Let us at least pretend we can be brave.

by Elinor Wylie
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