(À propos the threatened communication with Mars)
This world has noise enough
Without the roar of Mars—
Rob not the holy spaces of their calm,
Bring us no idle gossip of the spheres,
5
That on still nights into our burdened ears
Pours its mysterious balm.
Soon shall the air-ship blot the rising moon,
9
With vulgar flight across the evening sky;
In vain shall tortured ear and tortured eye
Flee from pursuit of each last silly tune,
And each new fashion of deformity;
In vain seek sanctuary
14
On dawn-kissed peaks of unascended snows,
Hath kept a secret from eternity,
Hid in her bosom like a lover's rose.
Leave us the stars—O wizard, let them be!
19
Their white immortal signals to translate;
Thinkst thou their beams tread all those million stairs
22
Nor strive to flash our foolishness to them:
25
Leave them unstained the midnight to begem
Leave them to sing at morning as of old—
28
Yea! unless, verily, thy science dares
Some better way to reach them with our prayers.