Robert Frost
Love has earth to which she clings
With
hills and circling arms about--
Wall within wall to shut fear out.
But
Thought has need of no such things,
For Thought has a pair of dauntless
wings.
On snow and sand and turn, I see
Where Love has left a printed
trace
With straining in the world's embrace.
And such is Love and glad to
be
But Thought has shaken his ankles free.
Thought cleaves the
interstellar gloom
And sits in Sirius' disc all night,
Till day makes him
retrace his flight
With smell of burning on every plume,
Back past the sun
to an earthly room.
His gains in heaven are what they are.
Yet some
say Love by being thrall
And simply staying possesses all
In several
beauty that Thought fares far
To find fused in another star.