PO E TRY.
ASTRONOMY.
TIEEY sail, they sail—those lighted ships- Star-schooners out and on,
Cold eddy of the last thought slips Smooth at their keel and is gone. . .
Proud they come down on winds unspiced With aught but the cold scent
Of space to koep (who knows ?) what tryst Beyond the firmament ?
The ultimate spume of light will toss Upon their sails, and fall Pearl-spray, to leave dark sheets that cross Seas with no light at all.
Ghost-craft they steal—how far, how far !- In what black foam, with stem Plunging in the wine-dark seas that are The years that plunge with them.
On, on they steer, span after span, And only find to lose What seemed the star Aldebaran In the shadow of Betelgeuse.
On still ; and time—a bow-string—drawn With a deep sigh must break, And sink with scattered dark and dawn Soundlessly in their wake.
On still and out ; and space will drop—
Back, back ; and the dark host
Anchor where thought itself must stop—
But beyond thought drives the ghost.
HUMBERT %VOLPE.
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