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This is an OCR edition with typos.
Excerpt from book:
III. '"THE nearest dream recedes, unrealized. The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race; Stoops to an easy clover — Dips — evades — teases — deploys; Then to the royal clouds Lifts his light pinnace Heedless of the boy Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky. Homesick for steadfast honey, Ah ! the bee flies not That brews that rare variety. E play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar, And our new hands Learned gem-tactics Practising sands. T FOUND the phrase to every thought I ever had, but one; And that defies me, — as a hand Did try to chalk the sun To races nurtured in the dark; — How would your own begin ? Can blaze be done in cochineal, Or noon in mazarin ? VI. HOPE. TJ" OPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I 've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me. VII. THE WHITE HEAT. T"ARE you see a soul at the white heal ? Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire's common tint; But when the vivid ore Has sated flame's conditions, Its quivering substance plays Without a color but the light Of unanointed blaze. Least village boasts its blacksmith, Whose anvil's even din Stands symbol for thefiner forge That soundless tugs within, Refining these impatient ores With hammer and with blaze, Until the designated light Repudiate the forge. VIII. TRIUMPHANT. " 7HO never lost, are unprepared A coronet to ...
