We drink the cup of life while yet

A veil our eyes is keeping;

And the cup’s golden brim is wet

With tears of our own weeping.

But when the veil falls from our eyes.

As Death appears before us.

Then with the veil the mystery flies

That held enchantment o’er us.

Oh then we see the golden cup

Was empty in its gleaming,

That only dreaming filled it up.

Nor even ours the dreaming!