Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/44

 Awake, we know 'tis not a dream; Asleep, some devil in the mind Might truest thoughts with false enwind.

Life is a mockery if death Have the least power men say it hath. As to a hound that mewing waits, Death opens, and shuts to, his gates; Else even dry bones might rise and say,— "'Tis ye are dead and laid away."

Innocent children out of nought Build up a universe of thought, And out of silence fashion Heaven: So, dear, is this poor dying even, Seeing thou shalt be touched, heard, seen, Better than when dust stood between.