Poor Icarus

Poor Icarus!—to soar so high,Then fall! For you 't was vain to tryBy cunning craft, on faithless wings,To capture empyrean thingsThat still to men the Fates deny!

Yet, even knowing Death so nigh,Had you reluctant been to flyBeyond earth's sure, safe harborings,—Poor Icarus?

I think not so. All, all must die!But you the pathways of the skyFound first, and tasted heavenly springs—Unfettered as the lark that sings—And knew strange raptures,—though we sigh:"Poor Icarus!"