A Pinch of Salt

 When a dream is born in you
With a sudden clamorous pain,
When you know the dream is true
And lovely, with no flaw nor stain,
O then, be careful, or with sudden clutch
You'll hurt the delicate thing you prize so much.


Dreams are like a bird that mocks,
Flirting the feathers of his tail.

When you seize at the salt-box,
Over the hedge you'll see him sail.

Old birds are neither caught with salt nor chaff:
They watch you from the apple bough and laugh.


Poet, never chase the dream.

Laugh yourself, and turn away.

Mask your hunger; let it seem
Small matter if he come or stay;
But when he nestles in your hand at last,
Close up your fingers tight and hold him fast.

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