90133: 'O world of many worlds . . .'

<p dir="ltr"> O World of many worlds, O life of lives,<br> What centre hast thou? Where am I?<br> O whither is it thy fierce onrush drives?<br> Fight I, or drift; or stand; or fly?<br> The loud machinery spins, points work in touch;<br> Wheels whirl in systems, zone in zone.<br> Myself, having sometime moved with such,<br> Would strike a centre of mine own.<br> Lend hand, O Fate, for I am down, am lost!<br> Fainting by violence of the Dance ...<br> Ah thanks, I stand---the floor is crossed,<br> And I am where but few advance.<br> I see men far below me where they swarm ...<br> (Haply above me---be it so!<br> Does space to compass-points conform,<br> And can we say a star stands high or low?)<br> Not more complex the millions of the stars<br> Than are the hearts of mortal brothers;<br> As far remote as Neptune from small Mars<br> Is one man's nature from another's.<br> But all hold course unalterably fixed;<br> They follow destinies foreplanned:<br> I envy not these lives their faith unmixed,<br> I would not step with such a band.<br> To be a meteor, fast, eccentric, lone,<br> Lawless; in passage through all spheres,<br> Warning the earth of wider ways unknown<br> And rousing men with heavenly fears ...<br> This is the track reserved for my endeavour;<br> Spanless the erring way I wend.<br> Blackness of darkness is my meed for ever?<br> And barren plunging without end?<br> O glorious fear! Those other wandering souls<br> High burning through that outer bourne<br> Are lights unto themselves. Fair aureoles<br> Self-radiated there are worn.<br> And when in after times those stars return<br> And strike once more earth's horizon,<br> They gather many satellites astern,<br> For they are greater than this system's Sun.<br></p>