Old age superbly rising! Ineffable grace of dying days! Every condition promulges not only itself . . . . it promulges what grows after and out of itself, And the dark hush promulges as much as any. I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see, multiplied as high as I can cipher, edge but the rim of the farther systems. Wider and wider they spread, expanding and always expanding, Outward and outward and forever outward. My sun has his sun, and round him obediently wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit, And greater sets follow, making
...more
