What here exists not must exist elsewhere.
But play no tricks upon thy soul, O man;
Let fact be fact, and life the thing it can.
Sp. To these remarks so sage and clerkly,
Worthy of Malebranche or Berkeley,
I trust it won’t be deemed a sin
If I too answer ‘with a grin.’
These juicy meats, this flashing wine,
May be an unreal mere appearance;
Only—for my inside, in fine,