Lunarview

“Among the hills a meteorite Lies huge; and moss has overgrown, And wind and rain with touches light Made soft, the contours of the stone. Thus easily can Earth digest A cinder of sidereal fire, And make her translunary guest The native of an English shire. Nor is it strange these wanderers Find in her lap their fitting place, For every particle that’s hers Came at the first from outer space. All that is Earth has once been sky; Down from the sun of old she came, Or from some star that travelled by Too close to his entangling flame. Hence, if belated drops yet fall From heaven, on these her plastic power Still works as once it worked on all The glad rush of the golden shower.”