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As shadows stretch to the east, |
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Laying down the world for sleep, |
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A turquoise sunset fades to ink |
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On diamond meadows spilled |
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I dissolve in a dream, |
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Fancying the universe let's me in; |
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A million eyes, sometimes called stars, |
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Pensively wink at me |
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I've been where stars can't glide to, |
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Have seen the universe from outside; |
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With raptured sinking heart, |
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Beheld it swaying among the alike |
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The without-so delicate- |
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Makes frightfully definite |
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What from within to a local mind |
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Had been so infinite |
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Beyond cognition cast, |
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Through space having carved its path, |
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A beam of light on a mirror sparks- |
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And dives to a speck of dust |
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What's inside the naught? |
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I've seen those colourful inner worlds |
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A thing within will always be |
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For inner things, the without |
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The within's thoroughness, |
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Its diverse minuteness, |
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Seems from without, |
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In shade of sky |
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A paltry commonness |
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The without-so delicate |
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Makes frightfully definite |
|
What from within |
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To a local mind |
