William Brighty Rands.
INTO the skies, one summers day,
I sent a little Thought away;
Up to where, in the blue round,
sun sat shining without sound.
Then my Thought came back to me.
Little Thought, what did you see
In the regions whence
And when I spoke, my Thought was dumb.
But she breathed of what was there,
In the pure bright upper air;
And, because my Thought
I knew she had been shone upon.
Next, by night a Thought I sent
Up into the firmament;
When the eager stars were out,
still moon shone about.
And my Thought went past the moon
In between the stars, but soon
Held her breath and
durst not stir,
For the fear that covered her;
Then she thought, in this demur:
Dare I look beneath the shade,
Into where the worlds are made;
Where the suns and stars
Shall I meet another Thought?
Will that other Thought have wings?
Shall I meet strange, heavenly things?
Thought of Thoughts,
and Light of Lights,
Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nights?
Then my Thought began to hark
In the illuminated dark,
Till the silence, over, under,
heart beat more than thunder.
And my Thought, came trembling back,
But with something on her track,
And with something
at her side;
Nor till she has lived and died,
Lived and died, and lived again,
Will that awful thing seem
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