Classic Poem

Mysterious Earth! mother of trees and flowers,
— Born in thy busy darkness — home of men!
Whose turning sets the timeless flight of hours,
— Who weavest life and dost unweave again;

In some far distant star, whereof no word
— Hath traversed space, or human or divine,
They call thee by a name we never heard.
— Night after night they look to see thee shine.

Old Earth, if thou were burnt, a blazing light,
— With all the men and beasts that in thee are,
The dwellers in the kindred worlds of night
— Would haply say, " There fell a shooting star! "