When it could but withhold what a man may behold of the sun.

331 For dreams would perplex, were the days that should vex her but seven,

331

The sight of her vision, made dark with division from heaven.

Till the light on my lonely way lighten that only now gleams,

I too am divided from heaven and derided of dreams.

332 VIII

332

A twilight fire-fly may suggest

How flames the fire that feeds the sun:

"A crooked figure may attest

In little space a million."

But this faint-figured verse, that dresses

With flowers the bones of one bare month,

Of all it would say scarce expresses

In crooked ways a millionth.

A fire-fly tenders to the father

Of fires a tribute something worth:

My verse, a shard-borne beetle rather,

Drones over scarce-illumined earth.

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