If, when thy body's end has come,
Thy mind must find another home,
   Make no mistake with man again;
Come into flesh the thing thou art
In all except thy body's part -
   Come as a silly ass, and plain.

Such were my thoughts, their honest parts,
But oh, what liars are kind hearts!
   What smooth false words such hearts demand:
'Thy dreams,' said I, 'give more surprise
Than when I chased bright butterflies,
   And missed them with my snapping hand.'