The Rainbow

A stately rainbow came and stood,
When I was young, in High-Hurst Park;
Its bright feet lit the hill and wood
Beyond, and cloud and sward were dark;
And I, who thought the splendour ours
Because the place was, t’wards it flew,
And there, amidst the glittering showers,
Gazed vainly for the glorious view.
With whatsoever’s lovely, know
It is not ours; stand off to see,
Or beauty’s apparition so
Puts on invisibility.