The world is woven all of dream and error

The world is woven all of dream and error

And but one sureness in our truth may lie--

That when we hold to aught our thinking's mirror

We know it not by knowing it thereby.

For but one side of things the mirror knows,

And knows it colded from its solidness.

A double lie its truth is; what it shows

By true show's false and nowhere by true place.

Thought clouds our life's day-sense with strangeness, yet

Never from strangeness more than that it's strange

Doth buy our perplexed thinking, for we get

But the words' sense from words--knowledge, truth, change.

We know the world is false, not what is true.

Yet we think on, knowing we ne'er shall know.

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