The Song Of A Comet

A plummet of the changing universe,         Far-cast, I flare         Through gulfs the sun's uncharted orbits bind,         And spaces bare         That intermediate darks immerse         By road of sun nor world confined.         Upon my star-undominated gyre         I mark the systems vanish one by one;         Among the swarming worlds I lunge,         And sudden plunge         Close to the zones of solar fire;         Or 'mid the mighty wrack of stars undone,         Flash, and with momentary rays         Compel the dark to yield         Their aimless forms, whose once far-potent blaze         In ashes chill is now inurned.         A space revealed,         I see their planets turned,         Where holders of the heritage of breath         Exultant rose, and sank to barren death         Beneath the stars' unheeding eyes.         Adown contiguous skies         I pass the thickening brume         Of systems yet unshaped, that hang immense         Along mysterious shores of gloom;         Or see - unimplicated in their doom -         The final and disastrous gyre         Of blinded suns that meet,         And from their mingled heat,         And battle-clouds intense,         O'erspread the deep with fire.         Through stellar labyrinths I thrid         Mine orbit placed amid         The multiple and irised stars, or hid,         Unsolved and intricate,         In many a planet-swinging sun's estate.         Ofttimes I steal in solitary flight         Along the rim of the exterior night         That grips the universe;         And then return,         Past outer footholds of sidereal light,         To where the systems gather and disperse;         And dip again into the web of things,         To watch it shift and burn,         Hearted with stars. On peaceless wings         I pierce, where deep-outstripping all surmise,         The nether heavens drop unsunned,         By stars and planets shunned.         And then I rise         Through vaulting gloom, to watch the dark         Snatch at the flame of failing suns;         Or mark         The heavy-dusked and silent skies,         Strewn thick with wrecked and broken stars,         Where many a fated orbit runs.         An arrow sped from some eternal bow,         Through change of firmaments and systems sent,         And finding bourn nor bars,         I flee, nor know         For what eternal mark my flight is meant.