My good friend, Vittal wrote a short one in response to my earlier poem. His poem concludes with

Your poem, sir, is murky as the tide…
I think I understand it
But the answer eludes me.

Whether he had it in his mind when he wrote these lines I don’t know, but his last line compelled me to paste this poignant Sonnet from Shelley–in my opinion one of his best. I suspect Maugham was so impressed by this Sonnet that he named his very fine novel, The Painted Veil.

Lift not the painted veil which those who live

Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,

And it but mimic all we would believe

With colours idly spread, — behind, lurk Fear

And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave

Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear.

I knew one who had lifted it — he sought,

For his lost heart was tender, things to love,

But found them not, alas ! nor was there aught

The world contains, the which he could approve.

Through the unheeding many he did move,

A splendour among shadows, a bright blot

Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove

For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

Tags: Lift not the Painted Veil, Literature, Poetry, Shelley’s Sonnet, Sonnet, Vittal