The empty dark about us makes us seem To lean out from the mountain side in space. Above are patterns which our fact-bound race No longer cares to read; below, lights beam From starlets, row on tidy row, that gleam Where we have made our vagrant passions trace Their useful dikes and ditches -- all the place A work-day pattern from a work-day dream. The pity is we should be so content With stars we make, that blind by their display, When from some desert mountain we might learn To look with unblurred eyes on glory sent Through timeless night from aeon-distant day -- Leave nearer flares to see the far suns burn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 9 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN HARLEM SHADOWS by CLAUDE MCKAY MISAPPELLATION by STEPHANIE L. BINCKLI THE CARPENTER'S STORY by ARCHIE BINNS THE ESCAPE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HECTOR IN THE GARDEN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |