34
SONGS, LEGENDS, AND BALLADS.
What boots it me to gaze at other planets,
And speculate on sensate beings there?
It comforts not that, since the moon began its
Well-ordered course, it knew no breath of air.
There may be men and women up in Venus,
Where science finds both summer-green and snow;
But are we happier asking, "Have they seen us?
And, like us earth-men, do they yearn to know?"
On greater globes than ours men may be greater.
For all things here in fair proportion run;
But will it make our poor cup any sweeter
To think a nobler Shakespeare thrills the sun?
Or, that our sun is but itself a minor,
Like this dark earth—a tenth-rate satellite.
That swings submissive round an orb diviner,
Whose day is lightning, with our day for night?
