Classic Poem

To purge what I am pleased to call my mind
Of matters that perplex it and embarrass,
I get a glass, and seek until I find,
High in the heaven, southward from Polaris,
A wisp of cloud — a nebula by name:
Andromeda provides a starry frame.

It's quite remote. I hesitate to say
How many million light-years it is distant.
But I can make the journey any day,
When earthly cares become a bit insistent —
Propelled by thought-waves — through the star-frame pass
Like little Alice through the Looking-Glass.

There, gazing back, I see our flock of stars
Shine palely in the void, a patch of vapor.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble jars,
Sequestered from the clamant daily paper
I breathe awhile in measureless content —
Alone at last, 'neath a new firmament!

If you would cultivate a soul serene,
A mind emancipated from emotion,
There's nothing like entire change of scene —
Some far-off isle in space's shoreless ocean.
It's well, at times, to change your universe:
The new one, if not better, can't be worse.