The Chalice of Life

We drink from the chalice of existence
Blindfolded,
Wetting its gilded fringe
With our tears.

But death comes nigh,
The blindfold drops,
And all that inveigled us
Disappears with it;

And then we see how empty
Was our gilded chalice,
How all we drank was but a dream,
And not even our dream at that!

1831