Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By James RussellLowell345 Hebe
I
I saw the flash of robes descending;
Before her ran an influence fleet,
That bowed my heart like barely bending.
Pilot to blooms beyond our finding,
It led me on, by sweet degrees
Joy’s simple honey-cells unbinding.
With nearer love the sky leaned o’er me;
The long-sought Secret’s golden gates
On musical hinges swung before me.
Thrilling with godhood; like a lover
I sprang the proffered life to clasp;—
The beaker fell; the luck was over.
What boots it patch the goblet ’s splinters?
Can Summer fill the icy cup,
Whose treacherous crystal is but winter’s?
The nectar crowns the lips of Patience;
Haste scatters on unthankful sods
The immortal gift in vain libations.
And shuns the hands would seize upon her;
Follow thy life, and she will sue
To pour for thee the cup of honor.