167
To learn the Transport by the Pain
As Blind Men learn the sun!
To die of thirst—suspecting
That Brooks in Meadows run!
To stay the homesick—homesick feet
Upon a foreign shore
Haunted by native lands, the while
And blue—beloved air!
This is the Sovereign Anguish!
This—the signal woe!
These are the patient "Laureates"
Whose voices—trained—below
Ascend in ceaseless Carol
Inaudible, indeed
To us—the duller scholars
Of the Mysterious Bard!