Even amidst their wonder at Thy world, Dazed with new beauty, gifted with new powers, These old men dreamed of blood. This was the thought To which all else must pander, if he hoped Even for one hour to see those dull eyes blaze At his discoveries. "Wolves," he called them, "wolves"; And yet he humoured them. He stooped to them. Promised them more advantages, and talked As elders do to children. You may call it Weakness, and yet could any man do more, Alone, against a world, with such a trust To guard for future ages? All his life He has had some weanling truth to guard, has fought Desperately to defend it, taking cover Wherever he could, behind old fallen trees Of superstition, or ruins of old thought. He has read horoscopes to keep his work Among the stars in favour with his prince, I tell you this that you may understand What seems inconstant in him. It may be That he was wrong in these things, and must pay A dreadful penalty. But you must explore His mind's great ranges, plains and lonely peaks Before you know him, as I know him now. How could he talk to children, but in words That children understand? Have not some said That God Himself has made His glory dark For men to bear it. In his human sphere My father has done this. War was the dream That filmed those old men's eyes. They did not hear My father, when he hinted at his hope Of opening up the heavens for mankind With that new power of bringing far things near. My heart burned as I heard him; but they blinked Like owls at noonday. Then I saw him turn, Desperately, to humour them, from thoughts Of heaven to thoughts of warfare. Late that night My own dear lord and father came to me And whispered, with a glory in his face As one who has looked on things too beautiful To breathe aloud, "Come out, Celeste, and see A miracle." I followed him. He showed me, Looking along his outstretched hand, a star, A point of light above our olive-trees. It was the star called Jupiter. And then He bade me look again, but through his glass. I feared to look at first, lest I should see Some wonder never meant for mortal eyes. He too, had felt the same, not fear, but awe, As if his hand were laid upon the veil Between this world and heaven. Then . . . I, too, saw, Small as the smallest bead of mist that clings To a spider's thread at dawn, the floating disk Of what had been a star, a planet now, And near it, with no disk that eyes could see, Four needle-points of light, unseen before. "The moons of Jupiter," he whispered low, "I have watched them as they moved, from night to night; A system like our own, although the world Their fourfold lights and shadows make so strange Must--as I think--be mightier than we dreamed, A Titan planet. Earth begins to fade And dwindle; yes, the heavens are opening now. Perhaps up there, this night, some lonely soul Gazes at earth, watches our dawning moon,