Classic Poem

The sun was black with judgment, and the moon
Blood: but between
I saw a man stand, saying, ‘To me at least
The grass is green.

‘There was no star that I forgot to fear
With love and wonder.
The birds have loved me’; but no answer came—
Only the thunder.

Once more the man stood, saying, ‘A cottage door,
Wherethrough I gazed
That instant as I turned—yea, I am vile;
Yet my eyes blazed.

‘For I had weighed the mountains in a balance,
And the skies in a scale,
I come to sell the stars—old lamps for new—
Old stars for sale.’

Then a calm voice fell all the thunder through,
A tone less rough:
‘Thou hast begun to love one of my works
Almost enough.’