The Star and the Garter

XXX O BLUEBELL of the inmost wood, Before whose beauty I abase My head, and bind my burning blood, And hide within the moss my face, I would not so—or not for that Would so: the gods knew well to save The mountain summit from the flat, Youth's laughter from its earlier grave. It is a better love, exists Only because of these belowit : Mountains loom grander in the mists : The lover's foolish to the poet. I know. Far better strive and earn The rest you give me than remain Ever upon the heights that burn Sunward, and quite forget the plain. Beauteous and bodiless we are ; Rapture is our inheritance ; You shine, an everlasting star, I, the rough nebula: but whence, 67