A hundred ruined realms!
Lo! in that dot, some mite, like me,
Impelled by woe or whim,
May crawl, some atom's cliffs to see—
A tiny world to him!
Lo! while he pauses, and admires
The works of nature's might,
Spurned by my foot, his world expires,
And all to him is night!
Oh, God of terrors! what are we?—