HOW little seem the joys and fears
We shun or chase,
How foolish seem our fevered years
Of smiles and tears,
Beside the music of the spheres
And the high harmonies of Space!
Natheless the spinning dædal world,
Floats in the current of our veins;
Within our souls the stars are whirled;
We breed the planets in our brains.
From us all Being has its birth,
Of all things is our being spun;
In us are Heaven, and Hell, and Earth,
And every star, and every sun.
