POOR Icarus!—to soar so high,
Then fall! For you 't was vain to try
By cunning craft, on faithless wings,
To capture empyrean things,
That still to men the Fates deny!
Yet, even knowing Death so nigh,
Had you reluctant been to fly
Beyond earth's sure, safe harborings,—
I think not so. All, all must die!
But you the pathways of the sky
Found first, and tasted heavenly springs,
Unfettered as the lark that sings,
And knew strange raptures,—though we sigh: