Vaster than light, vaster than space
Hear whisperings of the infinite,
And with proud sorrow in their eyes,
Their wild-maned coursers ever ready,
Soar far into the skies of thought.
XXVIII.
Yet who can follow flights like these,
Who plucks the stars from night’s blue vault!
Imagination, sluggish thing,
Will not obey the gayer moods,