The nearest Dream recedes—unrealized The Heaven we chase Like the June Bee—before the School Boy Invites the Race Stoops—to an easy Clover Dips—evades—teases—deploys Then—to the Royal Clouds Lifts his light Pinnace Heedless of the Boy Staring—bewildered—at the mocking sky Homesick for steadfast Honey Ah, the Bee flies not That brews that rare variety!