False life, a foil and no more, when br Wilt thou be gone? br Thou foul deception of all men br That would not have the true come on. br br Thou art a moon-like toil, a blind br Self-posing state, br A dark contest of waves and wind, br A mere tempestuous debate. br br Life is a fixed, discerning light, br A knowing joy; br No chance or fit, but ever bright br And calm and full, yet doth not cloy. br br 'Tis such a blissful thing that still br Doth vivify br And shine and smile and hath the skill br To please without eternity. br br Thou art a toilsome mole, or less; br A moving mist; br But life is what none can express: br A quickness which my God hath kissed.