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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...............a beautiful poem, absolutely love these lines ★ Homesick for steadfast honey, Ah! the bee flies not That brews that rare variety.