One speck within vast star-space lyingAwoke, arose, resumed its clothing,And crawled another day toward dying.

Blake was mad, they say, -- and Space's Pandora-boxLoosed its wonders upon him -- devils, but angels indeed.

You came to climb,And you endure --So turn your face to the rock of Time,Make one more foothold sure!

Dying is one of the few things that can be done as easily lying down.

Neither will I put myself forward as others may do,Neither, if you wish to flatter, will I flatter you;I will look at you grimly, and so you will know I am true.

Blue oblivion, largely lit, smiled and smiled at me.