Launched upon ether float the worlds secure.
Naught hath the truthful Maker to conceal.
No trestle-work of adamant or steel
Is that high firmament where these endure.
Patient, majestic, round their cynosure
In secular procession see them wheel;
...
William Reed Huntington
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Why here, on this third planet from the Sun,
Fret we and smite against our prison-bars?
Why not in Saturn, Mercury, or Mars,
Mourn we our sins, the things undone and done?
Where was the soul’s bewildering course begun?
In what sad land among the scattered...