The Stars Are Mansions Built By Nature's Hand
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By Henry Wordsworth

The Stars are mansions built by Nature's hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Dwell, clothed in radiance, their immortal vest;
Huge Ocean shows, within his yellow strand,
A habitation marvellously planned,
For life to occupy in love and rest;
All that we see--Is dome, or vault, or nest,
Or fortress, reared at Nature's sage command.
Glad thought for every season! But the spring
Gave it while cares were weighing on my heart,
'Mid song of birds, and insects murmuring;
And while the youthful years prolific art--
Of bud, leaf, blade, and flower--Was fashioning
Abodes where self-disturbance hath no part...