III

On other worlds, on other stars,

To us but tiny points of light,

Or lost in distances of night

Beyond our system's farthest bars,

A priest to Beauty's service sworn,

I sought and served her all my days,

With music and with hymns of praise.

In sunset and the fires of morn,

With thrilling heart her form I knew,

And in the stars she whitely gleamed,

And all the face of Nature seemed

Expression of her shape and hue.

I grieved to watch the summers pass

With all their gorgeous shows of bloom,

And sterner autumn months assume

Their realm with withered leaves and grass.

Mine was the grief of Change and Death,

Of fair things gone beyond recall,

The paling light of dawns, and all

The flowers’ vanished hues and breath.