Classic Poem

How sad! To deny it's splendid —
that dazzling mass — just because
it isn't a thing men did
and isn't even intended
for profit or applause

though overwhelmingly there
by the hundred-mile, by the billion-
ton buoyed on blue air
a feather, a leaf, a hair
would fall through ... Can someone

resent that probability
might not apply up there —
only a purity
of form and radiance he
must look up to but can't share?