Walter de la Mare

YE say we sleep;

But nay, we wake;

Life was that strange and chequered dream

Only for waking’s sake.

O passer-by, beware!

Is the day fair?—

Yet unto evening shall the day spin on

And soon thy sun be gone;

Then darkness come,

And this, a narrow home.

Not that I bid thee fear;

Only, when thou at last lie here,

Bethink thee, there shall only be

Thyself for company.