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Rh Ye rose in heaven on my meridian. So, in the least conjectured realm of all These pilgrim feet have found, my whereabout On this our Earth discovering I record. But the barbarians, when they saw me place And note the readings of mine instrument, Deemed me magician; some beneath their breath, Viewing my quadrant's ivory curvature, Whisper'd: "The Son of God hath come to us; And lo! the moon was underneath his arm! He holdeth strange communion with stars."

Yours are fair faces of familiar friends To the lone traveller in a lonely land, Ye constellations, slowly journeying west! And some of you, my best beloved at home May not behold; but some of you, with me, Their eyes and mine may gaze upon together. Glorious worlds, unknown to mortal men, My spirit yearns to you from hollow orbs! Soon shall I slake my longing all divine Even in you, with higher powers than these