Page:Fourteen sonnets and poems.djvu/40

 ''O Palissy! Within thy breast'' Burned the hot fever of unrest;  Thine was the prophet's vision, thine The exultation, the divine  Insanity of noble minds,  That never falters nor abates,  But labors and endures and waits,  Till all that it foresees, it finds,  ''Or what it cannot find, creates! ''