Subside to insignificance,—live, die

—Proved plainly two mere mortals who drew nigh

One moment—that, to Art's best hierarchy,

This, to the superhuman poet-pair?

What if, in one point only, then and there

The otherwise all-unapproachable

Allowed impingement? Does the sphere pretend

To span the cube's breadth, cover end to end

The plane with its embrace? No, surely! Still,

Contact is contact, sphere's touch no whit less