Читать книгу Dark Soil - Stringer Arthur - Страница 16

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This traveler

Who trod the hills of Mars

And headed often out where Algol waits,

This searcher of the skies

Who fared past ruddy Antares,

And walked with Regulus,

And was most friendly with grim Betelgeux,—

Who herded time-shy comets through the Void,

And gipsied down the garden-paths of Pollux,

And paddled often in the Milky Way,—

Who chummed with Arcturus,

And wandered on his tilted tube

Up through the Magellanic Clouds,—

Who hailed Aldebaran the Red

And knew Orion as a friend

And waved a hand to Mira,—

Who called on cold-eyed Procyon,

And waded boy-like in the Star-Drift,

And bumped his head against the Asteroids,

And, homing through the Planets,

Would brush the star-dust from his knees

And so raptly talk of light-years,—

How still he lies

In this small room,

Where in those shuttered eyes

That sought all far-off light

There is no answering light!