Two Realities

A wagon passed with scarlet wheels
     And a yellow body, shining new.
“Splendid!” said I. “How fine it feels
To be alive, when beauty peels
     The grimy husk from life.” And you

Said “Splendid!” and I thought you'd seen
     That wagon blazing down the street;
But I looked and saw that your glaze had been
On a child that was kicking an obscene
     Brown ordure with his feet

Our souls are elephants, thought I,
     Remote behind a prisoning grill,
With trunks thrust out to peer and pry
And pounce upon reality;
     And each at his own sweet will
Seizes the bun that he likes best
And passes over all the rest.

                                                  Aldous Huxley