Oh, be not ether-borne, poet of earth;
Stretch not thy wings to such a cloudless height
As ne’er to know the darkness of the night,
As ne’er to feel the touch of grief or mirth
That lives in human sympathy, whose birth
Is longed for in this world of love and blight;
Thou, too, must drink of sorrow and delight,
Must taste the joy of hope,...