vain

The lonesome for they know not What –
The Eastern Exiles — be –
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday –

And ever since — the purple Moat
They strive to climb — in vain –
As Birds — that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain –

The Blessed Ether — taught them –
Some Transatlantic Morn –
When Heaven — was too common — to miss –
Too sure — to dote upon!