 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
54
LOSE NOT TIME.
With bee-like industry fill thou the hiveOf knowledge. Let no flower of the spring
Escape thee. From the slopes of Hybla bring
Those finer flavours they alone can give,
On which the bees of poesy must live.
Therewith thy daily bread too sweetening,
Thou'lt raise and leaven it to be a thing
The Muse may bless, and thy soul on it thrive.
Lay up rich fuel for poetic use,
And when thou hast enough to make a pyre,
And sacrifice would'st offer to the Muse,
She will send down her own celestial fire,
And with articulate breath the flame diffuse;
One spark of which will thy whole heart inspire.
| Stones from The Quarry | |