A Fragment

Beauty, whose all-potential hand
Forever holds the fertile stars in fee,
What aeons serve thine empery,
What deeps are vast to thy demand !
All which Immensity,
Furrowed by fire, and sown by laboring suns
Hath brought to fruit within the patient past,
In heritage thou hast;
And all the flaming promise of the spheres
Which in remoter years
Shall be fulfilled at last
After the toil of long aphelions.
The advancing heavens still advance
Thy sun-supported feet;
From out the gulfs of divagance
Stars on thine errands meet;
Who bruit thy briefest word
In cyclic thunders heard
By gods upon their echo-shaken throne;
Who fledge thy light
With ever-travelling light
To constellate the eyeless night unknown.