Thou shalt behold it once, and once believe <br />Thou may'st possess it—Love shall make the dream, <br />Impossible and glorious, palpable seem, <br />And with the bliss thy soul awhile deceive— <br />When from that trance thou wakest, never more <br />On earth hope for it, for its life is o'er; <br />That one approach of the Divinity <br />Is but the pledge of thy affinity. <br />That lovely vision shall not be renewed, <br />Though through all forms of being close pursued; <br />The light must pass into the heavens above thee, <br />Thy polar star, to warn and lead and move thee, <br />If thou seek lower for it thou shalt follow <br />A fatal marsh-fire, fleeting, false, and hollow; <br />Unto the glorious truth thou shalt not soar, <br />But sink in darkness down for evermore. <br />Not to behold it once, is not to live, <br />But to possess it, is not life's to give.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ideal-4/
