When first I saw the russet Mars surmount the southern sky,
And, riding high, transfix me with a baleful orange glow,
Did I conceive that I beheld the presence of a world?
Or see a future land that humankind might one day touch?
Star flies glimmered in the soft encompassing night air,
I heard the gentle beating gossamer of muted wings.
Those quiet voices called across the reach of arching void,
While Mars itself rose silent, speaking to a spirit depth.
No comments:
Post a Comment