The nearest dream recedes unrealized

Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)

Poems: Second Series

THE nearest dream recedes, unrealized.The heaven we chaseLike the June beeBefore the school-boyInvites the race;Stoops to an easy clover—Dips—evades—teases—deploys;Then to the royal cloudsLifts his light pinnaceHeedless of the boyStaring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.

Homesick for steadfast honey,Ah! the bee flies notThat brews that rare variety.