And when I go forth at night, feel the earth walking silently across heaven beneath my feet, I know that the heart-beat and the will of the man is in it--in all of it. With thousands of trains under it, over it, around it, he thrills it through with his will. I no longer look, since I have known this, upon the sun alone, nor upon the countenance of the hills, nor feel the earth around me growing softly or resting in the light, lifting itself to live. All that is, all that reaches out around me, is the body of the man. One must look up to stars and beyond horizons to look in his face. Who is there, I have said, that shall trace upon the earth the footsteps of this body, all wireless telegraph and steel, or know the sound of its going? Now, when I see it, it is a terrible body, trembling the earth. Like a low thunder it reaches around the crust of it, grasping it. And now it is a gentle body (oh, Signor Marconi!), swift as thought up over the hill of the sea, soft and stately as the walking of the clouds in the upper air. Is there any one to-day so small as to know where he is? I am always coming suddenly upon my body, crying out with joy like a child in the dark, "And I am here, too!" Has the twentieth century, I have wondered, a man in it who shall feel Himself? And so it has come to pass, this vision I have seen with my own eyes--Man, my Brother, with his mean, absurd little unfinished body, going triumphant up and down the earth making limbs of Time and Space. Who is there who has not seen it, if only through the peephole of a dream--the whole earth lying still and strange in the hollow of his hand, the sea waiting upon him? Thousands of times I have seen it, the whole earth with a look, wrapped white and still in its ball of mist, the glint of the Atlantic on it, and in the blue place the vision of the ships. Between the seas and skies The Shuttle flies Seven sunsets long, tropic-deep, Thousand-sailed, Half in waking, half in sleep. Glistening calms and shouting gales Water-gold and green, And many a heavenly-minded blue It thrusts and shudders through, Past my starlight, Past the glow of suns I know, Weaving fates, Loves and hates In the Sea-- The stately Shuttle To and fro, Mast by mast, Through the farthest bounds of moons and noons. Flights of Days and Nights Flies fast.