Poems (Cromwell)/The Scientist
THE SCIENTIST
With what fidelity and yearning care
He must accommodate his glass; in blind
Huge darkness, till each star be clear defined;
At noon-day, till each point and leaf lies bare:
Each crystal in each stone. He must not spare
His days nor number years. His eye must find
The inmost kernel. Lo, his hands grow kind
With touching beauty, and his heart aware
Of curious things; of life in spiral shells,
Of death in searching mould around each tree.
Desiring truth, no lesser gift he owns
Upon the lonely summit where he dwells
His soul delights in sifting stars and stones.
He asks no grace except the grace to see.
He must accommodate his glass; in blind
Huge darkness, till each star be clear defined;
At noon-day, till each point and leaf lies bare:
Each crystal in each stone. He must not spare
His days nor number years. His eye must find
The inmost kernel. Lo, his hands grow kind
With touching beauty, and his heart aware
Of curious things; of life in spiral shells,
Of death in searching mould around each tree.
Desiring truth, no lesser gift he owns
Upon the lonely summit where he dwells
His soul delights in sifting stars and stones.
He asks no grace except the grace to see.