A THOUGHT
ay like a flower upon mine heart,
And drew
around it other thoughts like bees
For multitude
and thirst of sweetnesses;
Whereat
rejoicing, I desired the art
Of the
Greek whistler, who to wharf and mart
Could
lure those insect swarms from orange-trees
That
I might hive with me such thoughts and please
My soul
so, always. foolish counterpart
Of a
weak man's vain wishes ! While I spoke,
The thought
I called a flower grew nettle-rough
The thoughts,
called bees, stung me to festering:
Oh, entertain
(cried Reason as she woke)
Your
best and gladdest thoughts but long enough,
And they
will all prove sad enough to sting !
