The moon and the stars
That around ye roll,
The systems ye can not discern,
Are warmed by my rays,
And partake of the soul
And the spirit that in me burn.
And nothing throws back with such splendor my rays,
As the sea’s mighty mirror in midsummer days.
52. And like the temple of this body, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself shall fall, and, like this insubstantial vision faded, leave not a rack behind.
53. Letter I.