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...THE PRODIGAL SON by DAVID IGNATOW PEACE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SUPREME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CONSECRATED GROUND; READ AT THE NEW YORK CITY HALL by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE |