Lxxx

No--'t is ungainly work, the ruling men, at best! The graceful instinct 's right: 't is women stand confessed Auxiliary, the gain that never goes away, Takes nothing and gives all: Elvire, Fifine, 't is they Convince,--if little, much, no matter!--one degree The more, at least, convince unreasonable me That I am, anyhow, a truth, though all else seem And be not: if I dream, at least I know I dream. The falsity, beside, is fleeting: I can stand Still, and let truth come back,--your steadying touch of hand Assists me to remain self-centred, fixed amid All on the move. Believe in me, at once you bid Myself believe that, since one soul has disengaged Mine from the shows of things, so much is fact: I waged No foolish warfare, then, with shades, myself a shade, Here in the world--may hope my pains will be repaid! How false things are, I judge: how changeable, I learn: When, where, and how it is I shall see truth return, That I expect to know, because Fifine knows me!-- How much more, if Elvire!