Stones from The Quarry | ||
IMMORTALITY.
Do we, as, with a little painted airAnd shapely vapour mocked, Ixion thought
He clasped Junonian charms, so strongly wrought
Abusèd fancy, like delusion share;
Do we, beglamoured, dream that we too bear
Exulting, with ethereal beauty fraught,
Venus Urania, yet are only caught
By a mirage, that mocks our blank despair?
Alas! the nearer we approach, the more,
Dislimning, air to air, that radiant shape
Eludes our closer grasp, though struggling sore.
Is it as when blank vacancy doth ape
That with which (sense subdued) the mind runs o'er,
Or mortal thought Life's subtleties escape?
Stones from The Quarry | ||