…………………Stars
How countlessly they congregate
…O’er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
…When wintry winds do blow! –
As if with keenness for our fate,
…Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
…Invisible as dawn –
And yet with neither love nor hate
…Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva’s snow-white marble eyes
…Without the gift of sight.
The Bard on the Hill 