THERE came to me a thought
By wingid Fancy brought,
Subtle as flame; of light and sweetness wrought.

With costly pains and care,
I sought in words as rare,
To clasp and hold it: it exhaled in air

And vanished, — all the grace,
The gleam; and in its place,
A cold abstraction stared me in the face.

" O thought forever fled! "
Then to myself I said;
" O sweetness lost! O fine aroma shed! "

" Not so, " a voice replied;
" Thought lives and shall abide:
Only to utter it has been denied. "