The Transit Of Venus

By Oliver Wendell Holmes
Dimly the transit morning broke: The sun seeined doubting what to do, As one who questlons how to dress, And halt between the old and new, Picase Heaven he wear nis sult ol blue, Or don, at least, hls ragged cloak, With rents that show the azure through ! I go the patiënt crowd to join TËat round the tube my eyes discern The last new corner of the tile, And walt and walt, a weary while, And gape, and stretch, and shrug, and smlle (For each his place muBt fairly earn. Hlndmost and toremost, in hls turn), TUI hltchlng onward, pac by pace, I gain at last the envied place, And pay the white exiguous coiu ; The tun and I are face to face ; He glares at me, I stare at him ; And lo ! my straining eyc has f onnd A little spot that, black and round, .Lies n?ar the crimsoned fire-orb'B rim. 0 blessed, beauteous evening star, TFall named for her whom carth adores- The Lady of the dove-drawn car- 1 know thee In thy white simar; Hut veiled in black a raylcss spot, Black as a careleBa scribbler's blot Strlpped of ihy robe of silvery name- The stolen robe that N'ight restores When day has shut his golden doors- I je thee, yet I know thee not; And canst thou cali thjselí the same A black, round BDOt - and that is all ; And sucti a speek our earth would be If he who looks ujon the stars Through the red atmosphere of Mars Could see our little creeping ball As I our sister planit tee. And artthou, then, aworld like ours, Flung f rom the orb that whirled ourowu A molten pebble f rom lts zone? How mch thy burning sands absorb The fire-waves of the blazing orb; Thy chain so short, thy path so near, Thy flame-defying creatures hear The maelstroms of the photosphere ! And is thy bosom decked with üowers That stcal their bloom f rom scalding ehowers! And haat thou cities, domos and towere, And life, and love that makes it dear, And death that fllls thy tribes with f car f Lot in mv dream my spirit soars Through paths the wandering angels know ; My all-prevadlng thought explores The azure ocean's lucent shores ; I leaTe my mortal self below, As up the star-lit stairs I cllmb, And still the widening view reveáis In endless rounds the circling wheels That build the horoloee of time. Hew spheres, new suns, new eystema g!cam; The volee no earth-born echo hears Steals Boftly on my ravished ears ; I hear them "singing as they shine"- A mortal ,¦ voice dlssolves my dream ; My patiënt neighbor, sext iu line Hints gently there are those who wait. O guardián of the starry gate, What coin Bhall pay this dobt of mine i Too slight thy claim, too small the fee That bids thee turu the potent key The Tuscans hand has placed in thine. Xorgire my own the small affront, The insult of the proffered dime; Take it, O frlend, since this thy wont, But BtiU EhMl f aithiul memory bc A bankrupt debtor unto thee, And pay thee with a grateful rhyme. - Atlantic