II
The Sky
How far, how far, with unavailing eye1
Shall the frail sight grasp night’s significance,2
Or pierce the trackless, terrible expanse,3
The vast and awful desert of the sky ?4
If all the labouring world in one vast sigh5
Melted and vanished from its ancient place,6
Would any ripple stir the seas of Space,7
Or one least echo sorrow in reply ?8
Oh Hand, which through a shuddering chaos hurled,9
Star upon endless star and world on world,10
Will thy dread sowing spring to harvest soon ?11
Now pregnant with the thoughts of æons past,12
Through those unblossoming fields and pastures vast,13
The evident face of Silence, dawns the moon.14