The rock-ribbed Planet drifts across the Sun,
Swarming with creatures creeping on the crust,
Freighted with fears, and tears, and human dust,
Speaking the blank star-beacons, one by one.
Tossed on the ocean of Ten Million Nights,
The Moon a battered battle-lantern swings;
A Meteor a battle-pennant flings,
Lost in the ocean of Ten Million Lights.
Down to the Sea in Ships! Who knows?—Who knows
What Unseen Thing shall climb the mist-hung shrouds
And set the spread of splendid crowding clouds,
And light the signals set in starry rows?
Deep in the Black Crypt of the Universe
A feeble thing stood sobbing on a star;
“I live! I live! ’Tis mine to make or mar!”
And Silence was the Answer and the Curse.
Bee-haunted blossoms bud and bloom at Noon;
Bird-haunted meadows belt the Seven Zones;
And under all lie bedded human bones,
And over all still swings the tarnished moon.
On Men and Haunts of Men—if all Light dies,—
And, where a million stars hang tenantless
Whence the last ray is fled,—yet—none the less
A Million Lamps are trimmed for other Skies.
Believe it, O my soul! Arise and go
Forth among Men and seek the Haunts of Men;—
Nor shalt thou, O my soul, return again
To tell thou knowest naught; We know! We know!