Have you seen the thousand stars,
Perched on blackness like a dove?
How far like centuries,
How close like pinpricks on the skin!
My friends lie in wait for day
But I cannot wait to hear them shining—
To know their manic making ‘cross the
Night.
And in their subtle murmur,
They spend the dark as busily as day:
Knowing us in love with fear, they
Smile, and whisper through a sheen:
“It is not how many worlds we hold,
Nor distance, nor how vast and wide:
Though many, many ages shone
Yours is worth remembering.”
It’s true: I often crawl to sleep remembering
The peerless gaze from those great heights;
And I settle fast into a dream out on the edge,
The soaring race of stars blanketing my
Small and trembling self.
