Mould and Vase (Greek pottery of Arezzo)

Here in the jealous hollow of the mould,

Faint, light-eluding, as templed in the breast

Of some rose-vaulted lotus, see the best

The artist had — the vision that unrolled

Its flying sequence till completion's hold

Caught the wild round and bade the dancers rest —

The mortal lip on the immortal pressed

One instant, ere the blindness and the cold.

And there the vase: immobile, exiled, tame,

The captives of fulfillment link their round,

Foot-heavy on the inelastic ground,

How different, yet how enviously the same!

Dishonoring the kinship that they claim,

As here the written word the inner sound.