And look at the powdery swirl of stars, where it sweeps across the sky,
The wide way of the white stars, where it runs up and down,
My heart shall be glad for the friend who said It was Main Street, Heaventown.
RESPITE
O Beauty, heal my heart! I lean to thee,
Faint, having supped with horrors: give me drink!
—Red slopes beneath tall pines, ranged tree on tree;
Long cool gray lakes, with iris round the brink
In knightly companies purple and proud;
Birches as altar-candles slender and white;