Stars have ways I do not know,
Enormity that checks my thought,
Yet on the loom of their fine glow
The fabric of my dreams is wrought.

I look into the stars and one
After one, convictions die,
While more than I have lost is spun
Delicately across the sky.

I look into the stars, and all
The fuming purposes life gives
Pass, like mists of evening fall,
And all life never has been, lives.