In placid hours well-pleased we dream Of many a brave unbodied scheme. But form to lend, pulsed life create, What unlike things must meet and mate: A flame to melt–a wind to freeze; Sad patience–joyous energies; Humility–yet pride and scorn; Instinct and study; love and hate; Audacity–reverence. These must mate, And fuse with Jacob’s mystic heart, To wrestle with the angel–Art.
