Friends, reproach me not for what I do,
counsel me, nor pity me; nor say
I am wearing half my life away
bubble-work that only fools pursue.
if my bubbles be too small for you,
bigger then your own: the games we play
fill the frittered minutes of a day,
glasses are to read the spirit through.
whoso reads may get him some shrewd skill;
some unprofitable scorn resign,
praise the very thing that he deplores;
friends (dear friends), remember, if you will,
shame I win for singing is all mine,
gold I miss for dreaming is all yours.