The galaxies of silver gleams
That deck the drapery of night
And shed upon the forest streams
Their powdering of light,
Are too remote for lovers’ wistful dreams.
Their cold and glittering array
Spell loneliness and passion lost;
Their worlds a million years away
Forever gripped in cosmic frost –
Where are they in the glorious light of day ?
Beauty is theirs, but chaste and dead
And comfortless as in the tomb.
They fill no need of daily bread,
They stir no life within the womb;
They have no message where the blood runs red.
But in the hamlet, town and grove,
The lights that from the windows shine
Can warm the heart and speak of love,
And give a hint of the design
That finds a place for man in realms above.
Mona’s Herald 8.5.62