Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/180

 BEAUTY.

AS never form and never face

So sweet to as only grace

Which did not slumber like a stone,

But hovered gleaming and was gone.

Beauty chased he everywhere,

In flame, in storm, in clouds of air.

He smote the lake to feed his eye

With the beryl beam of the broken wave;

He flung in pebbles well to hear

The mementos music which they gave.

Oft pealed for him a lofty tone

From nodding pole and belting zone.

He heard a voice none else could hear

From centred and from errant sphere.