THEY laughed at me as "Prof. Moon," As a boy in Spoon River, born with the thirst Of knowing about the stars. They jeered when I spoke of the lunar mountains, And the thrilling heat and cold, And the ebon valleys by silver peaks, And Spica quadrillions of miles away, And the littleness of man. But now that my grave is honored, friends, Let it not be because I taught The lore of the stars in Knox College, But rather for this: that through the stars I preached the greatness of man, Who is none the less a part of the scheme of things For the distance of Spica or the Spiral Nebulae; Nor any the less a part of the question Of what the drama means. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TWO SAYINGS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE APOLOGY OF THE BISHOPS IN ANSWER TO BONNER'S GHOST by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD IN DEFENSE OF YOUTH by ROBBINS WOLCOTT BARSTOW ON THE DEATH OF ANNE BRONTE by CHARLOTTE BRONTE THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 6. GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI by ROBERT BROWNING |