The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.
        The heaven we chase
        Like the June bee
        Before the school-boy
        Invites the race;
        Stoops to an easy clover --
Dips -- evades -- teases -- deploys;
        Then to the royal clouds
        Lifts his light pinnace
        Heedless of the boy
Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.

        Homesick for steadfast honey,
        Ah! the bee flies not
That brews that rare variety.