These tales of old disguisings, are they not <br />Strange myths of souls that found themselves among <br />Unwonted folk that spake an hostile tongue, <br />Some soul from all the rest who'd not forgot <br />The star-span acres of a former lot <br />Where boundless mid the clouds his course he swung, <br />Or carnate with his elder brothers sung <br />Ere ballad-makers lisped of Camelot? <br /> <br />Old singers half-forgetful of their tunes, <br />Old painters color-blind come back once more, <br />Old poets skill-less in the wind-heart runes, <br />Old wizards lacking in their wonder-lore: <br /> <br />All they that with strange sadness in their eyes <br />Ponder in silence o'er earth's queynt devyse?<br /><br />Ezra Pound<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/masks/
