How the town buzzed that Newton had gone mad. You copy me that sad letter which he wrote To Locke, wherein he begs him to forgive The hard words he had spoken, thinking Locke Had tried to embroil him, as he says, with women; A piteous, humble letter. Had he heard Some hint of scandal that he could not breathe To you, because he honoured you too well? I cannot tell. His mind was greatly troubled With other things. At least, you need not fear That Newton thought it true. He walked aloof, Treading a deeper stranger world than ours. Have you not told me how he would forget Even to eat and drink, when he was wrapt In those miraculous new discoveries And, under this wild maze of shadow and sun Beheld--though not the Master Player's hand-- The keys from which His organ music rolls, Those visible symphonies of wild cloud and light Which clothe the invisible world for mortal eyes. I have heard that Leibnitz whispered to the court That Newton was an "atheist." Leibnitz knew His audience. He could stoop to it. Fools have said That knowledge drives out wonder from the world; They'll say it still, though all the dust's ablaze With miracles at their feet; while Newton's laws Foretell that knowledge one day shall be song, And those whom Truth has taken to her heart Find that it beats in music. Even this age Has glimmerings of it. Newton never saw His own full victory; but at least he knew That all the world was linked in one again; And, if men found new worlds in years to come, These too must join the universal song. That's why true poets love him; and you'll find Their love will cancel all that hate can do. They are the sentinels of the House of Fame; And that quick challenging couplet from the pen Of Alexander Pope is answer enough To all those whisperers round the outer doors. There's Addison, too. The very spirit and thought Of Newton moved to music when he wrote _The Spacious Firmament_. Some keen-eyed age to come Will say, though Newton seldom wrote a verse, That music was his own and speaks his faith.