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Poem	The sun was black with judgment, and the moon Blood: but between I saw a man stand, saying: 'To me at least The grass is green. 'There was no star that I forgot to fear With love and wonder. The birds have loved me'; but no answer came -- Only the thunder. Once more the man stood, saying: 'A cottage door, Wherethrough I gazed That instant as I turned -- yea, I am vile; Yet my eyes blazed. 'For I had weighed the mountains in a balance, And the skies in a scale, I come to sell the stars -- old lamps for new -- Old stars for sale.' Then a calm voice fell all the thunder through, A tone less rough: 'Thou hast begun to love one of my works Almost enough.'
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