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This poem is taken from PN Review 9, Volume 6 Number 1, September - October 1979.

The Cobblestones C.H. Sisson

O green, green, eating out my eyes,
A yellow-livered green in a wet light;
Daffodil-light falls on the wall
As I sit here, not pleased with anything.

Why tell the truth? None but a fool
Would make a habit of it.
One sometimes must, but as a rule
A lie will bring more profit.

Of course. And the best lie of all
Is the great lie of virtue,
Smooth as an egg. Tell that one well,
The world will not desert you.

It is not happiness which remains with one,
But it is a visitor who comes sometimes;
It is the pleasure that I do not have
Which makes the dream in which I pass my days.

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