English poem
The Skies
by Humbert Wolfe (1885–1940)
Though the world tumble tier by tier, Down, down the broken galleries, By day the sun would shine as clear By night the moon would ride her seas.
Though man and all was meant by men Upon the empty air were spent, Irrevocably Charles’s Wain Would swing across the firmament.
So large they are and cool the skies; God’s frozen breath in dreams, or worse: Beautiful unsupported lies That simulate a universe.