Stones from The Quarry | ||
THE MILKY WAY.
At distance (the bare thought of which meseemsLike leaning o'er some fathomless abyss,
Where the brain reels and the sight dazzled is),
Like some strange shore of Fancy's airy themes,
Whose sands are diamonds, far beyond far, it gleams
And shimmers, like some mystic isle, in this
All-boundless azure ocean, where we miss
Our way in truths stranger than wildest dreams!
My soul is crushed beneath immensity.
Not only does Man's reason prostrate fall,
Imagination droops her wings, to fly
Unable and afraid—greatest how small,
Wisest as fool, before this mystery,
Whence echo none answers our yearning call!
Stones from The Quarry | ||