For never quite attaining, but attaining very nearly
To my aspiration's altitude, whatever it may be.
Tis a faculty that haunts me with an obstinate persistence,
For I felt it in my boyhood, and I feel it in my prime,—
All the efforts and endeavours I have made in my existence
Have invariably ended "but a step from the sublime."
As a boy I made a tender of my tenderest affection,
In a lovely little sonnet to the fairest of the fair:
(Though nothing but a youngster, I've preserved the recollection
Of her tyranny, her beauty, and the way she did her hair.)