What High Structure had a Heart

What high structure had a heart
That kept a wearied pace like my own?
They sally the wind across the stones,
But not a strong faith in my art.
My garbled voice from the lonesome start,
Their pastoral phrase and rustic drones,
A truth not formed by what is shown
In a simple horse pulling a cart.
What high structure had a mind
That revered the knowledge of my blood?
Ideals only measure what's understood,
Seizes only what it can find,
Never to capture my whirling dove,
And dies grasping for what it loves.