




THE POETRY OF FLOWE 
oe 
oT 
& 
Dropp’d from her, fair and mute 
Close to a poet’s foot, 
Who beheld them, smiling lowly, 
As at something sad yet holy: 
9 
Said ‘‘ Verily and thus, 
So chanceth e’er with us, 
Poets, ringing sweetest snatches, 
While deaf did men keep the watches 
‘* Saunting to come before 
Our own age evermore, 
In a loneness, in a loneness, 
And the nobler for that oneness. 
‘* But if alone we be 
Where is our empiry ? 
And if none can reach our stature 
Who will mate our lofty nature ? 
‘* What bell will yield a tone 
Saving in the.air alone ? 
If no brazen clapper bringing, 
Who can bear the chiméd ringing ? 
S 
** What angel but would seem 
To sensual eyes glent-dim ? 
And without assimilation, 
Vain is interpenetration ! 



















