So one by one we looked, the men who served Urania, and the men from Vulcan's forge. A beautiful eagerness in the darkness lit The swarthy faces that too long had missed A meaning in the dull mechanic maze Of labour on this blind earth, but found it now. Though only a moment's wandering melody Hopelessly far above, it gave their toil Its only consecration and its joy. There, with dark-smouldering eyes and naked throats, Blue-dungareed, red-shirted, grimed and smeared With engine-grease and sweat, they gathered round The foot of that dim ladder; each muttering low As he came down, his wonder at what he saw To those who waited,--a picture for the brush Of Rembrandt, lighted only by the rift Above them, where the giant muzzle thrust Out through the dim arched roof, and slowly throbbed, Against the slowly moving wheel of the earth, Holding their chosen star. There, like an elf, Perched on the side of that dark slanting tower The Italian mechanician watched the moons, That Italy discovered. One by one, American, English, French, and Dutch, they climbed To see the wonder that their own blind hands Had helped to achieve. At midnight while they paused To adjust the clock-machine, I wandered out Alone, into the silence of the night. The silence? On that lonely height I heard Eternal voices; For, as I looked into the gulf beneath, Whence almost all the lights had vanished now, The whole dark mountain seemed to have lost its earth And to be sailing like a ship through heaven. All round it surged the mighty sea-like sound Of soughing pine-woods, one vast ebb and flow Of absolute peace, aloof from all earth's pain, So calm, so quiet, it seemed the cradle-song, The deep soft breathing of the universe Over its youngest child, the soul of man. And, as I listened, that Aeolian voice Became an invocation and a prayer: O you, that on your loftier mountain dwell And move like light in light among the thoughts Of heaven, translating our mortality Into immortal song, is there not one Among you that can turn to music now This long dark fight for truth? Not one to touch With beauty this long battle for the light, This little victory of the spirit of man Doomed to defeat--for what was all we saw To that which neither eyes nor soul could see?-- Doomed to defeat and yet unconquerable, Climbing its nine miles nearer to the stars. Wars we have sung. The blind, blood-boltered kings Move with an epic music to their thrones. Have you no song, then, of that nobler war? Of those who strove for light, but could not dream Even of this victory that they helped to win, Silent discoverers, lonely pioneers, Prisoners and exiles, martyrs of the truth Who handed on the fire, from age to age; Of those who, step by step, drove back the night And struggled, year on year, for one more glimpse Among the stars, of sovran law, their guide; Of those who searching inward, saw the rocks Dissolving into a new abyss, and saw