I have heard, the look of a starlit night
Moved men to raptures; I never had felt
Such aweful serene, until once I met
One brighteous moon, in whose warmness thought
We would live beyond life- but thought was all.
As always in the Sun, the poet’s fate
Is one traumatic shake through love and power;
For he cannot invite that one Friend- hate,
For he cannot ransack a love filled dower,
And left he is! With God, man, and life,
The agony of truth he alone bears,
I have heard him say- “O ever-free lark!
Before this misery of Earth- this care-
I loved thee once.” And then the world was dark.