Folder 421

I. Dead World - Earths' pallid satellite - How soul-inspiring is thy light; How wondrous and sublime thy bright And mystic face! How grand and awful is thy flight Through boundless space: 2. Would that my soul like thee could soar, Bound by Earth's petty bonds no more, Soar where soul never ranged before; From height to height, The birth-place of the stars explore, In one vast flight! 3. Would that my thoughts like thee could shine Clear, beautiful, profound, benign, For man to treasure and enshrine With jealous care, As thou therein a spark divine Bemingled were!