The Moon Gazed On My Midnight Labours,

Precious Attribute Of Woe-worn Humanity! That Can Snatch Ecstatic Emotion, Even From Under The Very Share And Harrow, That Ruthlessly Ploughs Up And Lays Waste Every Hope.

I Saw -- With Shut Eyes, But Acute Mental Vision -- I Saw The Pale Student Of Unhallowed Arts Kneeling Beside The Thing He Had Put Together. I Saw The Hideous Phantasm Of A Man Stretched Out, And Then, On The Working Of Some Powerful Engine, Show Signs Of Life, And Stir With An Uneasy, Half-vital Motion.

He Was Soon Borne Away By The Waves And Lost In Darkness And Distance.

If Our Impulses Were Confined To Hunger, Thirst, And Desire, We Might Be Nearly Free; But Now We Are Moved By Every Wind That Blows And A Chance Word Or Scene That That Word May Convey To Us.

What Are We, The Inhabitants Of This Globe, Least Among The Many That People Infinite Space? Our Minds Embrace Infinity; The Visible Mechanism Of Our Being Is Subject To Merest Accident.