The Matrix

Goaded and harassed in the factory
   That tears our life up into bits of days
   Ticked off upon a clock which never stays,
Shredding our portion of Eternity,
We break away at last, and steal the key
   Which hides a world empty of hours; ways
   Of space unroll, and Heaven overlays
The leafy, sun-lit earth of Fantasy.
   Beyond the ilex shadow glares the sun,
   Scorching against the blue flame of the sky.
Brown lily-pads lie heavy and supine
   Within a granite basin, under one
   The bronze-gold glimmer of a carp; and I
Reach out my hand and pluck a nectarine.


Source: A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass (1912)