“Now,” said the voice of lock and window-bar, ”You must confront things as they truly are. Open your eyes at last, and see The desolateness of reality.”
“Things have,” I said, “a pallid, empty look, Like pictures in an unused coloring book.”
“Now that the scales have fallen from your eyes,” Said the sad hallways, “you must recognize How childishly your former sight Salted the world with glory and delight.”
“This cannot be the world,” I said. “Nor will it, Till the heart’s crayon spangle and fulfill it.”
-- Richard Wilbur, At Moorditch