WHEN I behold what pleasure is Pursuit, What life, what glorious eagerness it is; Then mark how full Possession falls from this, How fairer seems the blossom than the fruit-- I am perplext, and often stricken mute Wondering which attained the higher bliss, The winged insect, or the chrysalis It thrust aside with unreluctant foot. Spirit of verse, that still elud'st my art, Thou airy phantom that dost ever haunt me, O never, never rest upon my heart, If when I have thee I shall little want thee! Still flit away in moonlight, rain, and dew, Will-of-the-wisp, that I may still pursue! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S by ROBERT BROWNING TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN BUCOLIC COMEDY: AUBADE by EDITH SITWELL ETHIOPIA SALUTING THE COLORS by WALT WHITMAN AN EVENING by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE HERO OF VIMY; AN INCIDENT OF THE GREAT WAR by BRENT DOW ALLINSON LONG CHERISHED GRIEF by MIRIAM BARRANGER WHOM EARTH HAS TAUGHT: REVELATION by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS |