Beside the pale cold sorrow of the moon,
Is like the wayward noises of the world
Beside my heart’s uplifted silent tune.
The little broken glitter of the waves
Beside the golden sun’s intense white blaze,
Is like the idle chatter of the crowd
Beside my heart’s unwearied song of praise.
The sun and all the planets in the sky
Beside the sacred wonder of dim space,
Are notes upon a broken, tarnished lute